THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


^Lltffi* 


CKjUJ-CTiON 


T  II  E 


DAYS   OF    SHODDY. 


A   NOVEL   OF 


THE  GREAT    REBELLION 


IN 


18   6   1. 


BY    HENEY    MORFOED. 

AUTHOR    OF    "  SHOULDER-STRAPS." 


PHILADELPHIA: 

T.    B.    PETERSON    k    BROTHERS, 
306     CHESTNUT     STREET. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1863,  hy 
T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States, 
in  and  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


TO 

HON.  CHARLES  P.  DALY,  JOHN  R.  BRADY  AND  HENRY  HILTON, 

JUDGES   OF   THE   COURT   OF   COMMON   PLEAS 

OF     THE 

CITY  AND   COUNTY   OF   NEW  YORK, 

DCRINO 

THE    THREE    YEARS    OF     WAR    FOR    THE    UNION, 

WHO  HAVE  NOT  ONLY 

KEPT   SPOTLESS     THE   JUDICIAL     ERMINE, 

BCT  • 

DISCOUNTENANCED     ALL     DISLOYAL     PRACTICES 

AND 

HELD  THE  GOLDEN  MEAN  OF  PATRIOTIC  CONSERVATISM, 
THE   TRUE   DEMOCRACY, —     . 
THIS    STORY     OF    THE   OPENING    DAYS     OP    THE     GREAT     STRUGGLE 

18 

RESPECTFULLY    DEDICATED 

BY   THEIR 

FRIEND   AND   SERVANT   IN   THE   SAME   FAITH, 

THE  AUTHOR. 

New  York  City,  Dec.  1st,  1863. 


603151 


PREFACE 


The  Days  of  Shoddy,  as  the  reader  will  readily  an- 
ticipate, are  the  opening  months  of  the  present  war,  at 
which  time  the  opprobrious  name  first  came  into  gen- 
eral use  as  a  designation  for  swindling  and  humbug  of 
every  character;  and  nothing  more  need  be  said  to  indi- 
cate the  scope  of  this  novel.  It  would  be  easy  for  the 
writer,  if  he  felt  disposed  to  forestall  criticism,  or  if  he 
doubted  that  the  work  itself  would  be  found  its  own 
apology, — to  point  out  those  features  in  its  construction 
most  likely  to  provoke  unfavorable  comment,  and  to  prove 
(at  least  to  his  own  satisfaction)  that  all  such  points,  pos- 
sibly to  be  considered  blemishes  by  others,  were  really 
beauties  of  the  first  prominence.  The  fact  is,  meanwhile, 
that  he  does  not  feel  that  any  prefatory  apology  is  neces- 
sary, while  he  does  recognize  the  propriety  of  a  few 
words  of  explanation  that  may  not  be  supplied  by  the 
body  of  the  work.  The  considerable  number  of  foot- 
notes appended  in  certain  portions,  giving  to  the  book  at 
times  more  the  appearance  of  a  dry  statistical  volume  or 
an  erudite  history  than  a  mere  work  of  current  romance, 
may  be  ^  regarded  as  an  innovation,  but  the  writer  hopes 
cannot  be  considered  objectionable  in  a  novel  having  for 
its  foundation  the  hard  facts  of  contemporary  history, — . 
in  spite  of  the  denunciations  of  August  William  Schlegel, 
the   distinguished   German   critic  and   essayist,  against 

23 


24  PREFACE. 

"notes  to  a  poem,"  whicb  lie  declares  to  be  as  much  out  of 

place  as  "  anatomical  lectures  on  a  savory  joint  served 
up  at  table."  The  objection  may  lie  quite  as  strongly 
against  "  notes  to  a  novel" ;  but  if  so,  Sir  Walter,  whose 
prefatory  and  appendiary  remarks  in  many  of  his  novels 
■were  merely  notes  set  in  another  form,  must  be  called  as 
the  quite  sufficient  antagonist  of  the  German. — A  second 
objection  might  lie  against  the  discursive  character  of 
certain  portions  of  the  work,  but  it  is  hoped  will  not  do 
so  when  we  remember  how  we  trifle  with  side-issues  that 
seem  pleasant,  in  every  relation  of  life,  from  the  child 
turning  aside  to  pluck  flowers  or  catch  butterflies  on  his 
way  to  school,  to  the  soldier  loitering  his  night  at  the 
theatre  when  he  knows  that  the  interests  of  the  country 
call  him  to  hurry  on  to  the  field  without  an  hour's  delay. 
— And  still  a  third  might  be  urged  against  the  large  ag- 
gregate of  denunciation  of  national  vices,  with  so  small  a 
proportion  of  pointed  personalities ;  while  the  explana- 
tion of  that  feature,  if  any  is  necessary,  lies  in  the  belief 
that  the  exposure  of  the  vices  and  follies  of  the  time  will 
be  found  much  more  effectual  for  the  common  good,  if  it 
indicates,  and  provokes  examination  of  official  documents, 
than  it  could  be  if  it  closed  inquiry  as  well  as  excited  it, 
by  merely  gibbeting  a  few  prominent  wrong-doers,  under 
their  real  names.  The  writer,  in  conclusion,  takes  the 
opportunity  of  thanking  press  and  public  for  the  very 
great  kindness  shown  to  a  previous  venture  in  the  same 
direction,  and  of  promising  that  if  their  favor  continues, 
the  mine  of  romance  of  the  rebellion,  thus  opened,  will 
not  be  allowed  to  lie  unexplored. 
New  York  City,  Dec.  1,  1863. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Coffee  Joe,  the  Newsboy — The  Thirteenth  of  April,  1861 — 
News  of  the  Bombardment  and  Capture  of  Sumter — 
Public  feeling  on  that  occasion — The  Sumter  Hoax — Dry- 
goods  and  Patriotism — Charles  Holt,  Burtnett  Haviland, 
and  Tim  the  Errand-boy — Volunteering,  Generosity,  and 
what  Tim  thought  of  the  arrangement 31 

.  CHAPTER  II. 
Aunt  Bessy  White  and^Kate  Haviland — The  profits  of  School- 
teaching  in  the  Country — A  last  reminder  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, Amos  Haviland — A  hurrah,  and  flag-raising  on  a 
spire — The  news  of  Sumter — The  Apotheosis  of  the 
American  Flag — A  crash,  and  a  search  for  it — Sharpening 
the  Sword — The  departure 48 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Fullerton  house  on  East  Twenty-third  Street — Mrs.  Fuller- 
ton  and  Miss  Dora — A  couple  of  people  of  decidedly 
Southern  proclivities — NedMinthorne,  an  Excellent  Catch 
as  a  Husband — Two  or  three  rows,  as  "  Parlor  Entertain- 
ments"— Mr.  Charles  Holt  as  a  Son-in-Law 64 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Merchant  and  his   Fifth  Avenue    Residence— A  glance  at 
Up-town   Luxury— A  Mercantile  Letter,  a  Dinner  and  a 
Summons — An  Interview  a  la  mode,  between  Husband 

25 


26  CONTENTS. 

and  Wife — How  Burtnett  Haviland  went  home — The 
Romance  of  Half  a  House — A  dear  little  Wife  that 
waited  at  the  door — A  Supper,  and  the  Shadow  that  fell 
over  it 81 

CHAPTER  V. 
A  Short  Chapter  and  a  dull  one — All  History  and  no  Romance — 
The  Rising  of  the  People — Statistics  and  incidents  of 
Flag-raising  —  Rosettes,  patriotic  carts  and  "  Union" 
public-houses — Movements  and  Events  after  Sumter — 
The  President's  Proclamation — Danger  of  the  Capital 
and  Baltimore — Military  preparations  in  the  Great  City..  104 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Sunday  morning  at  the  Havilands' — A  Domestic  Scene — The 
Husband's  patriotic  resolution — The  picture  of  Valley 
Forge — The  Wife's  noble  but  dangerous  Resovle — South- 
ern and  Northern  Women  during  the  War — The  story  of 
Sarah  Sanderson — Burtnett  Haviland's  unknown  Tempta- 
tion— Church-going  and  Satinets,  after  Sumter 113 

CHAPTER  VII. 
The  Departure  of  the  Seventh  Regiment — A  few  words  of 
Justice  to  that  Organization — Theodore  Winthrop  and 
his  career — How  young  Foster  went  away — How  Burtnett 
Haviland  met  an  Acquaintance — Captain  Jack — Ellsworth 
and  the  First  Fire  Zouaves — One  Soldier  who  did  not 
wish  to  be  an  Officer 131 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Kate  .Haviland  at  the  Fullertons'— Her  Arrival,  Examination 
and  Instructions — Myra  and  Mildred,  the  "Young 
Wretches" — A  Story  that  was  interrupted — Mrs.  Fuller- 
ton's  Law-papers  and  "property  near  Montgomery" — 
How  Ned  Minthorne  lost  his  Letter— An  interview 
between  Millionaire  and  Teacher — How  Ned  Minthorne 
recovered  his  Letter 146 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Another  Chapter  that  is  not  Romance,  but  History — The  "  Days 
of  Shoddy,"  as  they  were — The  human  Reptiles   that 
sprung  up  among  the  Demi-Gods — The  great  opportunity 


CONTENTS.  27 

for  Plundering,  and  how  it  was  embraced — Shoddy- 
Swindles  in  and  about  New  York — Old  Boats,  old  Satinets, 
old  Reputations  and  new  Villainies — National,  State  and 
City  Movements — Is  the  Modern  Sodom  to  be  lost  or  saved  ?  172 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  departure  of  the  Fire  Zouaves — Public  Confidence  in  them 
— The  scene  of  the  29th  of  April — Speeches,  parades 
and  presentations — Retrospectory — How  Burtnett  Havi- 
land  kept  his  Resolution — The  extraordinary  Friend- 
ship of  Charles  Holt,  merchant — The  Parting  of  Husband 
and  Wife — How  an  unlucky  Box  tumbled  over,  and  how 
Tim  wrote  a  Letter  inconsequence 197 

CHAPTER  XI. 
How  Kate  Haviland,  the  Teacher,  was  called  to  the  Seat  of 
Judgment,  and  how  she  conducted  herself  there — 
Humility  and  Arrogance — A  Trap,  and  who  fell  into 
it — What  Kate  Haviland  overheard  Behind  the  Curtain — 
Mary  Haviland's  Picture — A  whole  Hash  of  Revelations 
—A  Letter,  and  some  anxiety  about  another 222 

CHAPTER  XII. 
How  Charles  Holt,  the  Merchant,  displayed  his  Delicacy  and 
became  his  own  Errand-boy — Mary  Haviland's  Visitor, 
with  closer  peeps  at  his  Character — What  the  Merchant 
found  in  an  old  Drawer — How  the  Visits  multiplied  and 
the  Net  drew  closer — A  little  "bribery  and  corruption" 
— Kate  Haviland's  Researches,  and  how  much  she  Dis- 
covered     241 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Voyage  of  the  Fire  Zouaves  to  Annapolis — Their  Condition, 
Character,  and  the  Influences  for  and  against  them — Arri- 
val at  Washington — Camp  Lincoln  and  Camp  Decker — 
Burtnett  Haviland's  Letters,  and  the  Effect  they  pro- 
duced— The  Regiment  getting  ready  for  work 264 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Fire  Zouaves  on  Secret  Service — Landing  at  Alexandria — 
The  First  Capture  of  the  War — How  the  Zouaves  became 
railroad  laborers — Taking  the  Fairfax  Cavalry — A  "Fire 


28  CONTENTS. 

in  the  Rear,"  of  unpleasant  character — A  Startling  Re- 
port— Death  and  Mad  Imprudence  of  Col.  Ellsworth 284 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Charles  Holt  with  a  Call  abroad — How  he  paid  a  Farewell  Visit 
to  Burnett  Haviland's — Miss  Sarah  Sanderson's  Little 
Amusement,  and  a  Compact  following — How  the  Mer- 
chant made  a  Confidante  of  Mary  Haviland,  and  bade  her 
good-bye — Five  Minutes  in  the  room  of  Olympia  Holt....  303 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
Kate  Haviland's  next  and  last  Visit  to  Mary — City  and  Country 
Morals,  and  the  general  appreciation  thereof — A  Woman 
who  had  been  crying,  and  who  glanced  too  much  out  of 
the  Window — How  the  Two  "agreed  to  disagree" — No 
Letters,  and  the  Story  of  the  Guard-house — Miss  Sarah 
Sanderson's  supplementary  information 321 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
More  of  Kate  Haviland — Her  biggest  and  most  important  Pupil 
— Ned  Minthorne  in  a  new  character — Tobacco-smoke  and 
Impudence  in  the  School-room — A  new  theory  in  Natural 
History — How  the  Millionaire  inspected  the  Common 
People,  you  know  ! — Kate  Haviland  making  another  Dis- 
covery and  executing  a  War-dance 338 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Fire  Zouaves  at  Shooter's  Hill — Col.  Farnham — Camp 
Life  and  Equestrianism  Extraordinary — The  Major  as  John 
Gilpjn  —  Captain  Jack's  Company  at  Alexandria — 
Whiskey,  Darkey  Sentinels,  Pugilism  and  Dry  Straw — 
Captain  Bob's  Pocket-full — A  word  more  of  Burtnett 
Haviland 351 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Merchant  coming  Home — Wine  at  the  St.  Nicholas — A 
little  ''Urgent  Business"— How  Sarah  Sanderson  saw  a 
Ghost  and  found  it  Human — A  Servant-girl  "on  leave" — 
Alone  in  the  House— The  Tempter  and  his  Victim — 
How  even  a  Man  of  the  World  may  be  puzzled — A  sudden 
Change  and  a  Disappearance 369 


CONTENTS.  29 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Battle  of  Bull  Run— The  "  On  to  Richmond"  cry,  and  how  it 
was  obeyed — McDowell's  ''grand  army'' — The  Advance — 
The  battle  of  the  18th  July— Pause  of  the  19th  and  2Qth 
— The  opening  of  the  21st— Battle  of  Bull  Run  proper, 
with  a  sketch  of  the  Field  and  of  the  Corps-movements — 
The  Battle,  the  Panic,  and  the  End 392 

CHAPTER  XXL 
The  Zouaves  called  to  Battle — The  Blow  that  struck  Burtnett 
Haviland  at  the  same  moment — A  True  Heart  in  its 
Despair — The  Zouaves  in  Battle — The  three  Charges  and 
three  Repulses — End  of  a  "Favorite  Regiment"— How 
Burtnett  Haviland  became  a  Rebel — How  Charles  Holt 
took  the  road  to  Richmond — And  how  the  Clerk  ceased 
to  be  a  Soldier 413 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  Grief  and  Shame  that  followed  Bull  Run — New  York  on 
the  Twenty-second  of  July — How  the  City  and  the 
Country  mourned  for  their  Supposed  Dead — Mary  Havi- 
land at  Duffsboro — Aunt  Bessy's  reminiscences  of  Amos 
Haviland — Sad  News  from  the  Battle  in  Virginia — How 
the  omens  thickened  and  Mary  Haviland  temporarily 
became  a  Widow 428 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
Hurrying  to  the  End — An  official  Visit  to  Mrs.  Fullerton,  and 
some  Strange  Operations  between  the  Millionaire  and 
Kate — What  the  Teacher  had  found  in  the  Drawer — A 
"  Burst-up" — Burtnett  Haviland  looking  for  a  Wife — 
Sarah  Sanderson  as  a  Cat  in  the  Garret — Little  Tim  in 
play  once  more — A  re-union 444 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
The  Tobacco-Warehouse  at  Richmond — Some  last  passages  in 
the  History  of  Mr.  Charles  Holt,  Merchant — The  Fuller- 
tons  in  Secessia — Last  glimpses  of  the  Zouave  and  his 
wife — How  Kate  Haviland  and  Aunt  Bessy  had  a  Visitor, 
and  the  sequel — A  farewell,  and  yet  no  farewell,  to  the 
''Days  of  Shoddy." 463 


THE  DAYS  OF  SHODDY. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Cosfee  Joe,  the  Newsboy — The  Thirteenth  op  Aprtl, 
18()1 — News  of  the  Bombardment  and  Capture  of  Sum- 
ter— Publtc,  Feeling  on  that  Occasion — The  Sumter 
Hoax — Dry-Goods  and  Patriotism — Charles  Holt, 
burtnett  haviland  and  tlm  the  eilrand-boy — volun- 
TEERING, Generosity,  and  what  Tim  thought  of  the 
Arrangement. 

Bound  the  corner  of  Ann  Street  into  Broadway,  at  Bar- 
num's  Museum,  broke  a  newsboy,  and  ran  rapidly  across 
towards  the  Astor  House  and  the  mercantile  streets  on  the 
north  side  of  the  town,  a  bundle  of  papers  under  his  arm, 
just  procured,  after  a  tough  scramble  and  a  short  fight,  from 
the  Herald  press-room  on  Ann  Street,  the  door  of  which  was 
hppelessly  beset  by  a  multitude  of  the  anxious  disseminators 
of  general  information. 

Very  dirty  faced  was  the  newsboy,  known  at  the  "  hotel" 
which  he  patronized, tby  the  soubriquet  of  "  Coffee  Joe,"  and 
shabby  and  ragged  were  the  ill-fitting  clothes  that  sheltered 
him  from  the  statute  against  indecent  exposures  in  the  street, 
and  kept  him  out  of  the  clutches  of  the  police.  The  wreck 
of  a  blue  coat  that  he  wore  had  once  belonged  to  a  full-grown 
man,  and  the  sleeves  were  turned  back' six  inches,  to  expose 
his  grimy  hands,  while  the  draggled  skirts  nearly  swept  the 
ground  ;  the  patched  and  greasy  trowsers  might  have  been 
reduced  from  their  original  size  in  the  same  proportion  ;  one 

31 


32  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

boot  aud  one  shoe,  both  in  a  state  of  serious  dilapidation,  the 
former  run  down  at  the  heel  and  the  latter  guiltless  of  a 
string,  covered  so  much  of  his  feet  as  did  not  peep  out  at  the 
yawning  toes  ;  and  the  cap  smashed  low  on  the  top  of  a 
shock  head  frowsed  by  his  last  night  in  the  Newsboys'  Lodg- 
ing-House  and  since  uncombed,  seemed  almost  certain  to  have 
passed  through  a  dozen  previous  ownerships  and  been  at 
least  two  or  three  times  thrown  away  before  it  had  come  into 
his  possession. 

Not  a  romantic  or  even  a  picturesque  figure,  certainly — this 
type  of  the  modern  Mercury,  who  has  not  only  supplanted 
the  ancient  but  outdone  him  both  in  speed  and  lying.  And 
yet  he  becomes  a  highly  important  figure  at  times,  as  he  first 
holds  in  his  hand  the  intelligence  which  is  to  thrill  thousands 
of  hearts  with  pride  or  sorrow.  And  in  this  instance,  as 
Coffee  Joe  hurried  across  Broadway,  skilfully  heedless  of 
carts  or  omnibuses,  and  took  his  way  past  the  Astor  House 
towards  some  of  the  jobbing  streets  in  which  he  seemed  to 
have  special  customers,  he  formed  for  the  moment  a  leading 
attraction.  Others  of  the  fraternity  followed  close  behind 
and  scattered  themselves  among  the  throng  that  seemed  to 
fill  the  whole  lower  part  of  the  city  ;  but  Coffee  Joe,  who  had 
succeeded  in  securing  the  first  instalment  of  the  latest  edition, 
was  ahead  and  consequently  in  great  demand.  Yelling  as  he 
ran,  a  cry  which  seemed  to  strike  with  terrible  force  every 
heart  upon  which  it  fell,  he  still  did  not  pause  to  gather  the 
fruit  of  the  excitement  he  had  sown ;  and  the  cries  of  "  Here, 
boy  !"  "  Give  us  a  paper  !"  and  the  grasps  made  at  the  pack- 
age under  his  arm,  did  not  prevent  his  making  excellent  time 
to  one  of  the  corners  above,  and  dashing  down,  with  his  cry 
still  ringing,  into  the  mercantile  precincts  of  Murray  Street. 
Let  it  not  be  supposed,  meanwhile,  that  the  fever  of  the 
seekers  after  information  who  lined  the  sidewalk  in  front  of 
the  Astor  House  remained  uncooled  ;  for  some  of  Coffee  Joe's 
compatriots  came  on  rapidly  and  in  good  order,  and  the  damp 
sheets  with  half  a  column  of  intelligence  and  twenty  lines  of 
sensation-heading,  flew  around  as  if  they  had  been  another 
description  of  leaves  and  blown  by  another  gale  than  the 
breath  of  general  anxiety.  ^B£ 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  33 

When  it  is  understood  that  the  time  was  Saturday  after- 
noon the  13th  of  April,  1861,  and  that  the  cry  of  Coffee  Joe 
was  "Extry  Herald  I  Burnin'.  and  surrender  of  Fort  Sumter  P 

the  cause  of  all  the  excitement  will  be  apparent.     Nor  is  it 
necessary  to  do  more  than  merely  allude  to  the  feeling  over 
all   the  loyal  States  at  that  crisis,  the  events  and  the  sensa- 
tions of  which   are  yet  a  part  of  the  late  memories  of  this 
generation.     How   about  Anderson  and  his  little  band   up- 
holding the  flag  when  all  around  it  floated  a  bunti tig  unknown 
to  Washington  and  the  Fathers,  had  clustered  a  feeling  not 
more   personal  than  natural.     How  the   whole  land  had  re- 
joiced when  he  removed  from  Moultrie  to  Sumter  and  seemed 
to  hold   Charleston  at  his  mercy.     How  the  popular  heart 
had  writhed  over  the  exhaustion  of  his  supplies,  the  miserable 
failure  of  the  attempt  to   reinforce  him  with  the  Star  of  the 
West,   and  the  action    or  inaction   of   a  government    which 
seemed  to  have  neither  power  nor  will  to  sustain  the  national 
honor.     How  a  miserable  hoax,  with  the  statement  that  An- 
derson had   attacked   and  reduced   Moultrie  and  bombarded 
Charleston,  had  a  few  days  before  created  a  wild  delirium  of 
delight,  that  settled  back  to  despair  when  the  falsity  of  the 
story  was  known.     How  Saturday  morning  had  brought  the 
intelligence  of  the  bombardment  of  Sumter  and  the  outran 
on  the  flag;    and  how  all  day  long  the  reports  of  the  conflict 
had  varied  but  gradually  grown  more  threatening,  business 
suspended,  the  newspaper  offices  and  bulletins  besieged   the 
corners  occupied  by  infuriated  crowds,  and  the  popular  heart 
sick  unto  death  as  the  last  rumor  came  that  Sumter  was  in 
flames  and  must  surrender. 

It  was  at  the  moment  when  this  report  had  been  for  a  few 
minutes  bulletined,  when  the  first  sheets  of  the  extras  an- 
nouncing it  were  just  damp  from  the  press  and  in  the  hands 
of  the  excited  newsboys,  that  Coffee  Joe  made  his  way  hot 
dirty  and  self-important,  past  the  gesticulating  crowd  at  the 
Astor  House  and  down  into  one  of  the  commercial  streets 
leading  to  the  Xorth  River,  just  above  it. 

"  Extry  Herald  !  Last  edishin  !  Burnin'  and  surrender  of 
Fort  Sumter  !»  rang  his  shrill  cry,  broken  at  every  moment 
by  some  one  stopping  him  on  the  sidewalk,  jerking  one  of 

23 


34  THE      DA  Y  B      OF      SHODDY. 

the  sheets  before  he  had  fairly  extricated  it  from  the  bundle 
and  tossing  into  his  hand  the  half-dime  or  five  pennies  that 
the  politic  newsboy  demanded  for  so  late  and  so  precious  an 
announcement. 

He  was  half  way  down  the  street,  midway  between  Broad- 
way and  College  Place.  No  matter  what  letter  of  the  alpha- 
bet would  supply  the  initial  necessary  to  designate  that  par- 
ticular street.  He  was  in  front  of  a  large  iron-fronted  import- 
ing and  jobbing  cloth-warehouse,  the  wide  gilt  sign  over  the 
door  of  which  may  read,  for  the  purposes  of  this  narration, 
"  Charles  Holt  &  Andrews."' 

"  Here,  boy  I"  in  a  loud  tone  ;  and  Coffee  Joe  ran  up  the 
iron  steps  to  supply  an  extra  to  one  of  the  junior  clerks  who 
stood  in  the  half-opened  door,  pennies  in  hand.  The  trade 
rapidly  effected  and  the  pennies  pouched  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  vendor,  that  important  personage  ran  on  down  the 
street  with  his  accustomed  yell,  while  the  clerk,  glancing  f<»r 
an  instant  at  the  display-lines  at  the  head  of  the  first  column 
of  the  paper,  shut  the  door  and  disappeared  within. 

It  was  later  than  the  hour  at  which  most  of  the  jobbing- 
bouses  generally  closed  their  business  for  the  day  at  that  time 
of  the  year;  but  the  necessity  of  packing  and  shipping  cer- 
tain goods  sold  to  Western  customers,  and  the  impossibility 
that  day  of  attending  very  steadily  to  any  description  of 
work  for  more  than  five  minutes  at  a  time,  had  prevented  the 
store  closing  up  ;  and  the  principal  and  several  of  his  clerks 
remained  at  their  posts,  making  occasional  darts  out  into  the 
street  and  even  up  as  far  as  the  Astor  House  to  catch  the 
latest  news,  and  then  returning  to  make  some  pretence  of  ex- 
amining accounts  and  comparing  invoices,  but  really  to  talk 
more  or  less  connectedly  over  the  events  of  that  day  fur 
which  it  seemed  that  all  the  previous  days  of  the  nation  must 
have  been  made. 

The  interior  of  the  heavy  importing  cloth-house  of  Charles 
Holt  &  Andrews  at  that  moment  presented  an  appearance  very 
familiar  to  all  those  whose  business  has  frequently  led  them 
into  places  of  corresponding  character,  but  novel  and  instruc- 
tive to  those  who  have  either  never  seen  such  places  at  all, 


T  H  K       DAYS      OF      SHOD  D  Y .  30 

or  merely  passed  them   with  a  glance  in   tbrotigh  the  door- 
ways at  what  Seemed  to  be  wil  lernesses  of  merchandize. 

An  immense  room,  perhaps  One  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in 
depth  by  thirty  wide,  with  high  ceilings  finished  with  orna- 
toented  cornices  and  a  row  of  slim  fluted  iron  pillars  extend- 
ing from  front  to  rear  in  the  centre,  and  supporting  the 
weight  stored  in  the  stories  above.  No  less  than  three  pairs 
of  heavy  double  doors  opening  to  the  street,  but  two  of  them 
closed,  with  a  "fist"  scrawled  on  a  piece  of  paper  inside  the 
glass,  and  the  direction  :  "  The  other  door."  To  the  left,  in 
front,  nearly  one  quarter  the.  width  of  the  whole  room  taken 
away  by  the  space  occupied  for  the  outer  stairway,  closed  in 
with  ground  glass  and  iron  lattice-work.  In  the  centre  and 
towards  the  rear  an  oblong  skylight,  through  which  the  light 
came  softened  down  from  above,  throwing  into  bold  view 
certain  descriptions  of  goods  that  the  buyer  could  be  allowed 
to  view  closely  without  damage  to  the  interests  of  the  seller. 
At  the  right,  a  heavily  balustraded  stairway  leading  up  to 
the  floor  above,  and  below  it  another  running  in  a  parallel 
direction  but  leading  down  into  the  dusky  basements.  All 
around  and  on  every  side,  covering  every  available  foot  of 
space  and  making  blocks  of  goods  with  aisles  between,  some- 
thing like  the  squares  and  streets  of  a  city,  woollens  of  every 
color,  cost  and  texture,  from  the  finest  and  softest  Saxony 
broad-cloth  that  ever  the  Emperor  put  on,  on  a  night  when 
there  was  "  a  good  deal  expected  of  him  in  society,"  to  the 
heaviest  and  clumsiest  pilot-cloth  that  ever  wrapped  Pilot  Joe 
in  a  rough  night  off  the  Hook ;  woollens  in  cubic  roods  of 
unopened  cases,  and  in  great  piles  of  uncut  rolls  that  spoke 
only  of  wholesaleing  on  the  most  magnificent  scale  and 
seemed  sufficient  to  clothe  all  the  generations  that  had  lived 
since  the  Flood.  Here  and  there  a  costly  velvet  glittering 
like  a  diamond  among  ordinary  gems ;  and  at  rare  intervals 
some  cube  of  brilliant  stuff  for  the  wear  of  the  softer  sex, 
enlivening  the  whole  like  some  sprinkling  of  the  sex  itself 
amid  the  rough  mass  of  its  opposite  ;  but  the  great  bulk 
woollens  of  weight,  of  cost,  and  of  undeniably  male  destina- 
tion. Up  that  heavy  stair,  down  its  opposite  into  the  regions 
below,  everywhere  within  those  massive  doors,  the  stock  and 


8f)  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

the  general  appearance  of  what  is  so  well  known  as  an  ex- 
tensive cloth-house  in  the  metropolis.  Extending  nearly 
across  the  room  at  the  rear,  the  counting-room,  only  separated 
from  the  rest  by  a  massive  and  high  walnut  railing,  with  half 
a  dozen  desks,  single  and  double,  broadly  lighted  from  the 
rear  end  of  the  skylight,  some  of  them  bearing  heavy  can- 
vassed account-books,  and  others  devoted  to  the  more  hurried 
purposes  of  cashier  and  salesmen.  A  coal-burning  Franklin 
stove,  not  yet  closed  up  for  the  summer  and  with  a  slight  fire 
of  Breckinridge  coal  yet  sparkling  and  sputtering  there — an 
immense  safe  built  into  the  wall  and  one  of  the  doors  stand- 
ing half  open — two  or  three  high  stools  for  the  desks  and  as 
many  comfortable  office-chairs  for  lounging  during  more  idle 
hours.  Such  was  the  picture  presented,  in  all  inanimate  par- 
ticulars, at  the  moment  when  Coffee  Joe's  extra  flew  into  the 
house  of  Charles  Holt  &  Andrews,  late  on  that  April  after- 
noon. , 

Mr.  Charles  Holt,  the  senior  partner  of  the  house,  and  head 
of  what  was  believed  to  be  one  of  the  most  prosperous  dry- 
goods  firms  in  the  city,  had  remained  at  his  place  of  busi- 
ness, like  his  subordinates,  somewhat  beyond  ordinary  busi- 
ness hours,  and  sat  leaning  back  on  one  of  the  office-chairs 
within  the  railing,  solacing  himself  with  a  prime  Havana, 
silent  and  apparently  in  thought,  and  his  right  hand  listlessly 
(or  perhaps  nervously)  playing  with  the  heavy/  chatelaine 
guard-chain  that  dangled  from  his  vest.  The  merchant  might 
have  been  forty  years  of  age,  or  perhaps  two  or  three  years 
past  that  mature  period.  He  seemed  above  the  middle  height, 
well-formed,  in  fine  health  and  preservation,  with  dark  hair, 
dark  eyes,  and  a  placid  if  not  pleasant  face,  wearing  no  beard 
except  a  very  short  side-whisker  running  down  to  the  level 
of  his  mouth, — was  faultlessly  dressed  in  black,  except  that  his 
coat  was  an  "office"  one  instead  of  frock  or  dress,  and  the 
hat  that  stood  on  the  desk  near  him  was  new,  tasteful  and 
becoming.  He  looked  the  successful  and,  at  the  same  time, 
respectable  man  of  business,  to  perfection;  and  something 
more  than  the  average  keenness  of  observation  was  necessary 
to  perceive  that  there  were  certain  lines  under  the  eyes  and 
about  the  mouth,  easily  worn  by  passion  at  forty  years  or  be- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  37 

fore,  but  seldom  set  even  by  hard  work  without  some  propor- 
tion of  indulgence. 

At  one  of  the  desks  close  beside  him  stood  Mr.  Walea,  the 
book-keeper, — a  gray-haired,  quiet  and  respectable-looking 
man,  running  down  a  column  of  figures  in  one  of  his  books, 
before  delivering  them  over  to  the  care  of  Silas  C.  Herring 
for  the  night,  One  of  the  clerks,  Mf,  West,  was  reading  an 
evening  paper,  standing  and  leaning  against  the  railing  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  counting-room  from  his  employer; 
and  another,  Mr.  Burtnett  Ilaviland,  was  arranging  some 
packages  of  goods,  at  a  little  distance,  into  more  becoming 
order  before  closing. 

As  the  latter  is  destined  to  play  quite  as  important  a  part 
in  this  relation  as  even  his  employer,  he  is  entitled  to  the 
same  justice  of  a  brief  personal  description.  He  was  appa- 
rently not  more  than  twenty-five  or  twenty-seven  years  of 
age,  a  little  above  the  medium  height,  rather  slight  than  stout, 
but  with  no  impression  of  weakness  or  ill  health.  He  wae 
brown-haired  and  hazel-eyed,  wearing  his  brown  beard  i'n\\ 
but  short,  a  little  of  the  ruddy  tinge  of  exercise  and  constant 
employment  upon  his  cheek,  dressed  in  a  dark-gray  businest. 
suit  fitting  him  very  loosely— altogether  a  pleasant,  clever, 
good-looking  fellow,  a  successful  salesman  of  dry-goods,  and 
popular  enough  in  his  general  demeanor  to  make  him  a  de- 
sirable acquisition  in  the  dry-goods  trade  there  or  elsewhere, 
though  scarcely  a  man  of  peculiar  mark  to  catch  the  eye  of  the 
casual  observer. 

"See  here,  Mr.  Holt,  the  thing  is  done!"  said  Foster,  one 
of  the  junior  clerks — a  bright-eyed,  dark-haired,  round-faced 
boy  of  twenty — stepping  hastily  back  from  the  door,  with  the 
extra  in  his  hand.  "  Sumter  is  on  fire,  and  Major  Anderson 
has  agreed  to  surrender!"  Foster  was  very  young,  little 
more  than  a  boy,  in  feeling  as  well  as  years,  and  there  was  a 
grief  in  his  tone  that  might  easily  have  been  followed  by 
weeping  and  sobbing.  Some  of  these  very  young  people  take 
griefs  and  shames  much  harder,  whether  they  have  reference 
to  a  lost  love  or  a  lost  land,  than  they  are  likely  to  do  after 
a  few  years  of  hardening  in  the  world.  The  lazy  young  scamp 
was  only  teaching  a  great  moral  truth,  when  he  turned  over 


38  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

on  his  bed  at  midnight,  informed  of  the  sudden  death  of  his 
father,  said:  "How  sorr-y  1  shall  be — in  the  morning !"  and 
dropped  to  sleep  again.  He  was  too  busy,  with  sleep,  to  be 
grieved  then!  The  young  have  not  only  freshness  of  heart 
to  feel  grief  or  joy.  which  their  elders  lack,  but  they  are  less 
busy  and  absorbed,  and  have  time  to  be  sorry. 

"Eh!"  said  Holt,  the  merchant,  taking  the  paper  from 
■r's  hand  and  glancing  his  eye  over  the  heading.  "Yes, 
so  he  has.  The  thing  is  done,  indeed.  Wales,"  to  the  book- 
keeper, "who  knows  but  that  may  bring  on  a  regular  fight? 
and  then  all  those  Southern  accounts  that  have  been  doubtful 
w<»uld  not  be  worth  a  snap  of  the  fingers!*' 

"Just  so,  as  yon  say.  Mr.  Holt,"  said  the  placid  and  gray- 
headed  Wales.  "There  may  be  a  war,  and  then  I  do  not  see 
much  chance  for  collecting  them." 

Charles  Holt,  the  merchant,  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  two 
or  three  times  across  the  counting-room.  His  face  looked 
sombre,  and  his  mouth  was  working  with  displeasure.  Of 
what  was  he  thinking  ? — the  shame  and  wrong  that  had  fallen 
upon  the  country,  or  the  fact  that  all -the  Southern  accounts 
were  apparently  gone  beyond  recall  ?  Xo  one  who  saw  his 
face  at  that  moment,  could  answer.  There  was  an  Eye  look- 
ing down  into  his  heart,  meanwhile,  and  the  sublime  intelli- 
gence informing  that  Eye  could  have  decided  the  question. 
But  it  did  not,  to  mortal  mind. 

Mr.  Holt  had  laid  down  the  paper  after  glancing  at  the 
heading  of  the  news,  and  Wales,  after  also  glancing  at  it  for 
an  instant,  handed  it  over  to  Haviland,  who  stepped  forward 
a  little  eagerly  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  it  after  he  had  finished 
his  work.  The  clerk  took  it,  threw  himself  hastily  upon  an 
unopened  case  of  goods,  and  seemed  to  be  perusing  the 
double-leaded  column  with  almost  painful  interest. 

The  front-door  again  opened  at  that  moment,  and  a  small 
figure  came  in  from  the  street  and  back  toward  the  counting- 
room.  It  was  that  of  little  Tim,  the  errand-boy,  who  had 
probably  never  known  any  other  name.  He  had  a  letter  in 
his  hand,  and  brought  it  at  once  to  Mr.  Holt,  displaying,  as 
he  did  so,  a  face  and  a  figure  equally  singular.  Perhaps  it  may 
have  been  some  idea  of  benevolence,  and  perhaps  it  may  have 


T  II  E       I)  AYS       OF       SHODDY.  o(J 

been  mere  oddity,  that  induced  the  merchant  to  take  this* 
queer  little  morsel  of  humanity  into  his  employ.  He  was 
some  fourteen  years  old,  stout  enough  for  his  ago,  but  not 
too  tall  for  ten.  He  had  a  shock  head  of  stiff,  straight  red 
hair,  too  unmanageable  to  allow  of  his  putting  on  his  cap 
in  the.  ordinary  manner,  that  useful  head-covering  being  ac- 
cordingly hung  upon  half  a  dozen  tufts  of  the  human  scrub- 
bing-brush, springing  from  the  back  of  his  crown.  His  broad 
face,  which  would  not  otherwise  have  been  ill-looking,  was 
marred  by  a  cast  in  the  left  eye  which  gave  him  the  most 
comical  squint  imaginable.  Though  the  other  eye  was 
straight  enough,  no  one  had  ever  been  able  to  discover  ex- 
actly the  direction  in  which  Tim  was  looking;  and  it  was  gen- 
erally supposed  that  he  would  have  been  invaluable  as  a  spy, 
from  that  qualification.  An  orphan,  or  worse,  he  had  been 
for  two  years  in  the  employ  of  Holt  and  Andrews,  quick  and 
willing  enough  as  an  errand-boy,  able  to  read  the  direction 
on  a  letter  or  a  package  when  not  too  badly  written,  capable 
of  making,  very  slowly  and  with  difficulty,  certain  odd  hiero- 
glyphics which  were  just  decipherable  as  writing,  and  supposed 
to  have  little  knowledge  or  observation  beyond.  A  couple 
of  suits  of  ordinary  dark  cassimere  or  satinett,  with  cheap 
caps  and  coarse  shoes  to  match,  furnished  the  little  fellow 
with  outer  clothing  for  a  year;  and  he  was  known  to  sleep 
somewhere  over  on  the  east  side  of  the  town,  in  poor  lodg- 
ings but  a  little  remove  better  than  those  of  Coffee  Joe.  That 
was  all,  known  of  him  by  his  employers  or  those  employed 
with  him  :  that  was  all,  cared  for  him  by  any  except  perhaps 
one  of  the  whole  number.  And  why  was  not  that  enough  ? 
What  more  of  interest  could  there  possibly  be  in  the  life  or 
fortunes  of  the  insignificant  errand-boy  ? 

Little  Tim's  one  straight  eye  seemed  to  be  quite  sufficient 
to  make  him  aware  that  something  unusual  was  agitating  the 
people  in  the  store,  and  perhaps  he  had  been  listening  to  the 
conversation  that  had  taken  place  there  during  the  earlier 
part  of  the  day,  or  caught  something  of  the  purport  of  the 
talking  in  the  street,  for  he  squinted  worse  than  ever  in  the 
effort  to  look  serious  and  respectable,  as  he  handed  the  letter 
to  Mr.  Holt;  and  then  he  fell  back  into  his  normal  condition, 


40  THE       DAYS      UF      S  H  U  D  1)  Y. 

£o  expressive  of  abject  poverty  and  dependence,  by  crowding 
himself  between  two  dry-goods  boxes  that  were  separated  a  few- 
inches,  and  sitting  on  the  floor,  his  odd  face  peering  eltishlv 
out,  and  his  crooked  eye  seeming  to  play  about  like  a  flash  of 
heat-lightning  as  be  twisted  it  hither  and  thither  in  the  effort 
to  look  into  the  faces  of  all  his  superiors  at  once. 

Burtnett  JTaviland  held  the  newspaper  before  his  face  with 
one  hand,  while  the  other  supported  his  shoulders  on  the  box; 
for  several  minutes — long  enough  to  have  read  over  the  half 
column  of  telegraphic  announcement  at  least  half  a  dozen 
times.  His  face  was  sheltered  from  the  others  by  the  paper, 
and  as  he  uttered  no  word  they  could  have  no  idea  what  was 
the  effect  produced  upon  him  or  what  were  the  thoughts 
passing  through  his  mind.  But  directly  all  doubt  on  the  sub- 
ject was  dissipated,  for  fhey  saw~  him  drop  the  paper,  throw 
his  face  between  both  his  hands,  and  give  vent  to  such  sounds 
as  showed  that  the  strong  man  was  sobbing.  Yes — sobbing  ; 
the  word  is  written,  and  it  need  not  be  recalled.  It  has  been 
said  that  poor  young  Foster,  the  junior  clerk,  came  very  near 
to  shedding  tears  as  he  glanced  at  the  heading  of  the  intelli- 
gence and  saw  howr  the  country  had  been  insulted  and  dis- 
graced :  here  was  a  much  older  man  than  he,  who  should 
have  had  more  knowledge  of  the  world  and  whose  years  should 
have  made  him  firmer  and  calmer — actually  breaking  into  sobs 
over  the  disgrace  inflicted  upon  his  country,  as  he  might 
have  done  over  the  body  of  an  only  child.  Shame  upon  his 
manhood  ?  Xo  !  Shame  upon  the  cold  and  sluggish  heart 
that  does  not  realize  how  nearly  deep  feeling  and  true 
courage  are  allied,  and  how  exquisitely  above  all  pathos  are 
those  words  of  Bayard  Taylor,  concluding  his  picture  of  the 
Crimean  soldiers  singing  "Annie  Laurie"  and  thinking 
through  tears  of  Mary  and  Xorah  at  home,  then  marching  to 
death  before  the  iron  mouths  of  the  Russian  cannon  on  the 
Malakoff,  without  a  blench  or  a  tremor  : — 

"The  bravest  are  the  tenderest; 
The  loving  are  the  daring." 

There  are  hearts  that  have  bled  over  the  wTrongs  and  out- 
rages inflicted  upon  the  country,  since  that  day,  and  over  the 


T  H  E       DAYS      u  F      S  II  u  D  D  Y .  -il 

fear  of  final  loss  which  must  ever  haunt  devoted  love, — more 
sadly  than  the  same  hearts  have  ever  sorrowed  for  the  death 
and  burial  of  their  .dearest.  And  if  there  is  a  hope  that  the 
Land  of  the  West  will  ever  arise  from  the  ashes  of  its  humili- 
ation and  put  ou  the  full  glory  which  belongs  to  it  as  the 
freest  and  greatest  among  nations,  that  hope  must  be  born  of 
the  belief  that  the  God  of  Xations  has  been  besought  for  it  In 
prayer,  with  such  agonized  wrestlings  as  would  have  pleaded 
for  the  life  of  one  dear  beyond  all  expression,  or  for  the  safety 
of  a  perilled  soul. 

.  But  enough  of  this.  Burtnett  Haviland  was  sobbing  over 
the  degradation  of  his  country,  beyond  a  question,  and  his 
employer  and  his  associates  saw  the  strange  spectacle.  The 
two  mismatched  eyes  between  the  boxes  saw  the- exhibition, 
too,  for  the  queer  face  was  drawn  into  as  near  an  approach 
to  sympathy  as  it  was  capable  of  expressing,  and  there  may 
even  have  been  moisture  trembling  under  those  short,  stubby 
eye-lids. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  either  of  the  persons  present, 
for  several  minutes.  Each  was  thinking,  without  doubt,  in  his 
own  way  and  from  his  own  point  of  view,  of  the  crisis  which 
had  been  reached  and  the  evidence  before  them  of  even  mor- 
bidly patriotic  feeling.  At  length  Mr.  West  said,  illustrat- 
ing the  mercantile  habit  of  thinking  that  there  must  be  ma- 
terial and  action  before  results: — 

"Talking  about  fighting — what  are  we  going  to  do  it 
with  ?  We  have  no  army.  Xo  army  at  all — not  more  than 
eight  or  ten  thousand ;  and  to  punish  those  hounds  as  they 
deserve  we  shall  need  a  hundred." 

"Humph  !"  said  Charles  Holt,  though  he  added  no  words 
to  explain  whether  the  expression  was  one  of  assent  or  dis- 
sent. The  face  of  Haviland  was  yet  buried  in  his  hands, 
though  his  sobs  had  ceased  and  he  was  evidently  listening. 
Who  knows  but  he  wras  a  little  ashamed  to  meet  the  gaze  of 
his  companions,  after  such  an  exhibition  of  child-like  emotion  ? 

"The  Mexican  War  game  must  be  played  over  again," 
West  went  on.  "We  must  have  men  enough  to  sweep  over 
every  one  of  the  seceded  States  like  a  whirlwind " 

"Enough  to  tumble  down  every  house  in  Charleston,  and 


42  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

sow  salt  where  every  blade  of  grass  grows  in  the  neighbor- 
hood," broke  out  young  Foster,  who  had  before  with  difficulty 
restrained  himself. 

"We  shall  need  at  least  an  hundred  thousand,"  rep 
West.  How  little  he,  or  any  of  the  others,  realized  the 
miserable  insufficiency  of  that  "  hundred  thousand,"  for  any 
such  purpose  as  putting  down  the  gigantic  rebellion,  or  how 
many  more  than  that  hundred  thousand  would  lie  in  soldiers' 
graves  before  the  struggle  had  more  than  commenced  !  How 
little  even  the  President,  surrounded  by  his  Cabinet  at  Wash- 
ington, and  preparing  to  call  out  seventy-five  thousand  troops, 
realized  the  extent  of  the  task  upon  which  he  was  about  to 
enter  !  How  little  has  he,  and  have  they,  and  have  we,  real- 
ized the  stupendousness  of  the  undertaking  to  restore  the 
Union*  many  a  day  since  the  13th  of  April,  1861.! 

"An  hundred  thousand? — a  great  number  of  troops! 
Where  can  they  be  got  ?"  said  the  gray-haired  and  prudent 
Mr.  Wales,  whose  habit  of  dealing  with  the  hard  reality  of 
figures  necessarily  made  him  exceedingly  prudent  in  his  cal- 
culations. 

"  Got  ?  by  volunteering  !"  replied  young  Foster,  who  sprung 
to  the  solution  with  a  bound,  as  is  the  manner  of  unchastened 
youth. 

"And  i"  will  be  one  of  the  volunteers  !"  cried  Burtnett 
Haviland,  uncovering  his  face,  springing  from  the  box  on 
which  he  had  been  seated,  shaking  back  the  hair  from  his 
forehead  with  the  gesture  of  one  who  is  throwiug  off  an 
incubus,  and  standing  firmly  erect  in  the  aisle  between  the 
piles  of  dry-goods. 

"  You  ?"  asked  the  merchant,  in  a  tone  of  surprise,  which 
indicated  that  if  he  had  considered  the  raising  of  an  army  as 
necessary  or  possible,  he  had  thought  of  it  as  taking  place 
somewhere  in  Maine  or  Wisconsin,  and  by  no  means  at  his 
own  door. 

"Yes,  i7"  repeated  Haviland.  "  Let  the  call  be  made,  as 
it  must  be  made  if  they  are  not  all  traitors  at  Washington  as 
well  as  at  Charleston,  and  I  will  be  one." 

"And  your  family  ?"  asked  the  prudent  Mr.  Wales.  "  You 
have  a  wife  and  child.     Can  you  afford  to  leave  them  ./"' 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHuUDY.  43 

"  God  help  me  ! — I  had  forgotten  them  /"  said  the  young 
man  :  and  deeply  as  he  had  been  excited,  a  smile  flitted  over 
his  face  at  the  thought  that  even  for  one  moment  he  could 
have  forgotten  the  two  dearest  objects  of  his  love.  "  No,  I 
suppose  I  cannot  go,  even  when  the  call  is  made,  for  a 
soldier's  pay  is  very  little,  and  I  cannot  leave  Mary  and 
little  Pet  to  suffer  and  perhaps  to  starve.  Eh,  well ! 
lleigho  !" 

During  all  the  conversation  just  recorded,  Mr.  Holt,  the 
merchant,  as  before  indicated,  had  seemed  to  take  little  in- 
terest in  it  and  to  be  absorbed  in  thought.  Now,  there  was 
a  marked  change  in  his  manner,  though  only  a  close  observer 
could  have  detected  it.  There  was  a  new  light  in  his'eye,  and 
a  slight  flush  upon  his  cheek,  making  him  decidedly  finer- 
looking  than  before,  while  he  rose  from  his  chair,  threw  the 
remains  of  his  cigar  into  the  grate  and  stood  erect  near  the 
railing,-  outside  of  which  Haviland  yet  kept  his  position. 
What  could  have  produced  this  sudden  change  in  the  calcu- 
lating merchant  and  the  cool  man  of  business  ? 

•  "  There  may  not  be  any  such  call  for  troops  as  you  antici- 
pate, Mr.  Haviland,"  he  said,  "and  even  if  there  should  be, 
I  certainly  was  for  the  moment  surprised  at  your  idea  of 
quitting  my  employment  to  become  a  soldier.  But  we  all 
owe  something  to  our  country,  of  course  ;  and  I  can  only  say 
that  if  a  call  for  troops  does  take  place,  and  you  really  wish 
to  do  your  share  in  revenging  this  gross  insult  to  our  flag, 
you  need  not  think  so  discouragingly  of  the  pecuniary  affair. 
I  should  of  course  continue  your  salary  during  your  absence, 
and  in  the  event  of  any  misfortune  to  yourself  I  believe  that 
I  should  be  liberal  enough  to  see  to  it  that  your  family  did 
not  suffer." 

There  had  been  persons  disposed  to  say  of  Charles  Holt, 
in  previous  days,  that  he  was  not  the  person  to  display 
Quixotic  liberality — that  he  never  entered  into  a  contract 
unless  he  had  at  least  a  fair  probability  of  getting  the  best  of 
the  bargain.  How  must  those  narrow  and  illiberal  persons, 
had  they  been  present  at  that  juncture,  have  acknowledged 
tin'  falsity  of  their  allegations  and  owned  the  grandeur  of  the 
spectacle  of  the  American  merchant  standing  boldly  up  in  the 


44  THE      DAYS      OF      S  H  U  D  I)  Y . 

first  hour  of  his  country's  need,  and  offering  to  pay  out  of 
his  own  coffers  for  the  services  of  a  soldier  to  swell  the  ranks 
of  her  defenders  ! 

At  least  such  was  the  aspect  of  princely  liberality  which 
the  proposal  bore  to  Haviland,  who  allowed  his  feelings  t<> 
master  him  sufficiently  to  step  forward  to  the  railing,  gra>p 
his  employer  by  the  hand  (a  liberty  which  he  was  by  no 
means  in  the  habit  of  taking),  and  thanking  him  out  of  a  full 
heart. 

"  I  thank  you  indeed,  very  much,  Mr.  Holt,"  he  said,  "  and 
I  am  too  poor  to  refuse  your  kind  offer  if  I  really  have  occa- 
sion to  become  a  volunteer.  There  may  be  no  occasion  ;  but 
if  there  is,  be  snre  that  I  shall  be  among  the  first,  now  that 
you  have  made  my  mind  easy  as  to  the  duty  I  owe  my 
family, — and  that  I  shall  try  to  keep  you  from  being  a  loser 
by  your  generous  fcmdnes»." 

u  Oh,  you  will  have  occasion,"  said  young  Foster,  who  had 
no  doubt  by  this  time  fully  planned  out  half  a  dozen  cam- 
paigns to  avenge  Sumter,  and  who  certainly  had  acquired  the 
soldier-fever  to  quite  as  great  an  extent  as  Haviland.  "  Per- 
haps I  ought  not  to  ask  you,  Mr.  Holt,"  he  went  on,  after  a 
half  moment  of  hesitation,  "  but  suppose  that  I  should  find 
myself  in  the  same  condition,  would  you  continue  my  salary 
and  look  a  little  after  the  welfare  of  my  old  mother  ?" 

It  could  not  have  been  that  the  merchant  was  any  respecter 
of  persons,  in  providing  prospective  soldiers  before  they  were 
demanded;  but  certainly  his  face  fell  a  little  at  this  question, 
and  he  did  not  answer  in  quite  so  high  and  patriotic  a  tone  : 

"You?     Why — yes — I  suppose  so." 

It  is  just  possible  that  there  was  even  a  shade  of  vexation 
in  his  voice.  Perhaps  he  knew  that  if  the  country  really  did 
need  protectors,  enthusiastic  boys  like  young  Foster  were 
not  likety  to  make  quite  such  reliable  soldiers  as  older  and 
better-seasoned  men  like  Haviland.  Perhaps  he  merely 
hesitated  in  pity  for  the  extreme  youth  of  the  boy,  thinking 
of  the  chances  of  the  battle-field,  the  possible  grief  of  the 
mother  over  her  son.  and  all  that  class  of  emotional  specula- 
tions. Perhaps — but  the  other  hypotheses  must  develope 
themselves  in  due  eour&e. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  45 

Daring  the  course  of  this  conversation  the  spring  afternoon 
had  closed  nearly  into  dusk,  the  remaining  business  of  the 

day  had  been  completed  by  the  junior  clerks  and  the  porter, 
no  more  extras  were  bawled  in  the  street — in  fact  no  more 
were  needed  or  looked  for,  now  that  the  catastrophe  was 
known  ;  and  the  house  of  Charles  Holt  &  Andrews  closed 
for  the  night,  the  persons  we  have  named  separating  with 
widely  different  feelings.  It  is  not  necessary,  at  this  period, 
to  follow  the  reflections  of  the  merchant  as  he  wended  his 
way  through  the  still-excited  and  yet  gesticulating  crowd  on 
the  corner  of  his  street  and  Broadway,  to  catch  one  of  the 
omnibuses  for  his  up-town  residence — what  those  reflections 
really  were,  will  be  much  more  satisfactorily  developed  in 
the  action  which  soon  followed.  Grave  old  Mr.  Wales  took 
a  car  for  his  quiet  home  on  the  west  side  of  the  town,  his 
head  a  little  confused,  between  the  figures  of  his  daily  habit 
and  the  strange  excitement  which  had  just  burst  in  and  sent 
them  flying  hither  and  thither.  West  was  not  so  excited  by 
the  thought  of  the  peril  threatening  his  country,  as  to  forget 
the  little  game  of  billiards  which  he  had  promised  to  play 
with  one  of  his  brother  clerks  at  a  saloon  not  far  from  the 
Park,  after  dinner  ;  and  he  strolled  away  to  keep  his  engage- 
ment. Young  Foster,  who  still  would  keep  jumping  at  his 
conclusions,  almost  forgot  his  hat  as  he  left  the  store,  in  the 
excitement  of  the  national  crisis  and  the  thought  how  proud 
his  old  mother  would  be  to  see  him  in  a  gray  uniform  pre- 
cisely like  that  worn  by  the  Seventh  (he  had  made  up  his 
mind  that  kis  corps,  at  least,  would  certainly  dress  in  that 
highly  becoming  manner),  and  how  much  prouder  still  she 
would  be  when,  after  performing  some  wonderful  feat  of 
arms  as  a  common  soldier  in  the  ranks,  he  should  come  home 
radiant  under  a  somewhat  rapid  promotion  and  with  the  epau- 
lettes (the  shoulder-straps  were  not  then  known  as  they  are 
to-day)  of  a  general ! 

Burtnett  Haviland,  as  he  left  his  place  of  employment  and 
walked  for  some  distance  up  Broadway  before  taking  the  car 
which  was  to  bear  him  to  his  home,  bore  a  heart  filled  with 
conflicting  emotions.  He  had  within  him,  perhaps,  none  of 
the  materials  of  the  hero  except  courage  and  devotion.     His 


46  T  HE      DAYS      OF      SH  0  DDY. 

reading,  though  somewhat  extensive  and  very  generi   ,  bad 
not    Led  him  much  among  the  demigods   of  romance   and 

romantic  history — he  knew  of  them,  hut  had  never  sat  at 
their  feet  and  worshipped.  Possibly  he  had  never  even  been 
aware  that  his  heart  beat  more  warmly  for  the  honor  and 
welfare  of  his  native  land,  than  that  of  any  one  of  the  first 
half  dozen  men  he  might  happen  to  meet  in  the  street;  and 
'v  he  would  have  been  as  much  shocked  at  the  very 
idea  that  he  could  do  any  thing  patriotically  heroic,  as  he 
could  have  been  by  the  knowledge  that  he  had  done  some- 
thing dishonest  and  shameful.  lie  was  simply  a  whole- 
hearted and  patriotic  citizen,  proud  of  the  flag  under  which 
he  lived,  and  the  country  that  had  been  growing  so  fast  in 
power  and  glory  ;  grateful  for  the  peace  and  protection  which 
had  been  accorded  him  under  the  best  system  of  government 
known  to  the  history  of  the  world  ;  pained,  shocked  and 
horrified  at  the  thought  that  red-handed  traitors  against  such 
a  government  and  such  a  country  could  be  found;  and  deter- 
mined, so  far  as  in  him  lay,  that  the  means  should  not  be 
wanting  to  crush  out  the  rebellion  which  began  to  threaten 
the  national  existence.  He  had  felt  and  resolved  thus,  as  a 
matter  of  duty — not  because  he  thought  of  being,  or  wished 
to  be,  a  hero. 

But  what  a  change  had  one  short  hour  made  in  his  position 
in  the  world  !  An  hour  before  he  had  been  engaged  in  the 
peaceful  pursuits  of  mercantile  life,  with  no  thought  that  he 
should  ever  change  the  sphere  of  his  action, — a  happy  hus- 
band and  father,  with  no  intention  of  ever  being  separated 
from  the  objects  of  his  love,  for  any  longer  period  than  an 
occasional  day  passed  iu  business  or  recreation.  Now  he 
stood  committed  to  his  companions,  his  country  and  his  own 
heart,  to  don  the  garb  of  a  soldier,  to  separate  himself  for 
perhaps  a  long  period  from  all  that  he  held  dear  in  the  world, 
and  to  plunge  into  a  mad  exposure  of  his  life  on  the  battle- 
field. For  not  for  one  instant  had  he  doubted,  after  reading 
the  contents  of  Coffee  Joe's  extra,  that  a  war  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  Union  must  come,  and  come  at  once ;  and  not  for 
an  instant  had  he  faltered  in  his  determination,  expressed  in 
that  moment  of  excitement,  to  be  among  the  first  to  respond 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  47 

to  any  call  made  upon  the  citizen  soldiery  of  the  land     Of 

the  life  that  was  to  be  perilled  he  thought  but  little fewer 

men  think  of  the  exposure  of  their  lives,  when  going  into 
difficulty  and  danger,  than  the  popular  belief  would  warrant. 
But  Mary  and  Pet— his  dear  little  wife  and  the  one  child  of 
his  love— he  did  think  of  the  possible  parting  with  them, 
with  a  prescient  anxiety  little  short  of  agony;  and  it  is  not 
si  range  that  he  passed  along  the  street,  and  saw  the  groups 
of  gesticulating  men  gathered  upon  every  corner,  and  saw 
the  old  flag  drooping  from  flag-staff  and  s^op-window,  with 
such  a  feeling  as  if  he  had  become  suddenly  set  apart  and 
separated  from  the  world — a  determined  but  a  sad-hearted 
martyr  k>  evil  times  and  inevitable  duties. 

Tim,  the  errand-boy,  also  went  home,  with  his  head  quite 
as  full  of  new  sensations  as  either  that  of  his  employer  or  his 
employer's  clerk.  As  he  plunged  down  Frankfort  Street  and 
aeross  the  Swamp  towards  the  garret  where  his  straw  pallet 
was  nightly  spread  out,  he  muttered  words  between  his  teeth 
which  were  almost  as  unaccountable  to  himself  as  they  may 
possibly  be  to  the  reader. 

"  Don't  know  'bout  that  I"  he  said.  "  Boss  was  a  bio-  sighf 
williner  to  hev  Misser  Hevlin  go  'way,  than  he  was  to  let 
Fosser  go,  an  he  keers  a  great  deal  the  mos'  about  Hevlin, 
for  Fosser  ain't  much  use,  no  how.  Wonner  what  he  wants 
Hevlin  to  go  'way  fur  ?  Dern  him  !  he  does  want  Hevlin  to 
go  'way — I  know  it !  Missers  Hevlin  cum  down  to  the  store 
tother  day,  and  I  seen  Boss  look  at  her  so  funny  !     Dern 

him  !     I've  seen  him  look  at  her  two'r  three  times,  jes  so 

jes  as  if  his  mouth  was  a-waterin'  an'  he  wanted  to  eat  her 
up.  Wonner  if  big  men  like  Boss  ever  do  eat  up  wimmen, 
when  they're  other  fokeses,  or  wot  they  want  of  'em  !  Dern 
him!  he'd  better  not  try  it  on  Missers  Hevlin,  cos  Misaet 
Hevlin  kep  all  them  big  boys  from  lickin'  me,  more'n  a  good 
many  weeks  ago,  an  I  been  wishin'  he  was  my  fader  ever 
since.  Dern  him  !  don't  know  !"  and  here  Tim's  specula- 
tions ceased  to  rumble  out  of  his  misshapen  mouth,  though  it 
is  highly  probable  that  he  thought  the  more  intently  because 
he  closed  the  vent  which  had  so  far  given  him  partial  relief. 

Is  it  as  true  to-day  as  it  was  many  a  century  ago,  that  the 


43  THE      DAYS      OF      S  H  O  D  D  Y. 

"weak  things  of  this  world"  are  "chosen  to  confound  the 
mighty  ?"  And  hud  the  little  squinting  errand-hoy,  from  his 
loop-hole  between  the  two  dry-goods  boxes.  Bees  at  a  glance 
what  had  been  entirely  overlooked  by  other  and  straighter 
eves  ?     We  shall  see. 


CHAPTER  II. 

Aunt  Bessy  White  and  Kate  Hayiland — The  profits  of 
School-teaching  in  the  Country — A  last  rem^der  of 
the  Revolution.  Amos  Hayiland — A  hurrah,  and  flag- 
raising  on  a  Spire  —  The  news  of  Sumter — The 
Apotheosis  of  the  American  Flag — A  crash,  and  a 
search  for  it — Sharpening  the  Sword — The  Depar- 
ture. 

"  Going  away  to-morrow.  How  can  we  spare  yon  ?"  and 
the  hand  of  the  speaker  moved  caressingly  over  the  chestnut 
hair  of  her  companion,  as  if  there  was  something  Grained  by 
touching  in  as  many  places  as  possible  the  form  that  would 
soon  be  beyond  even  the  reach  of  sight. 

"  Yes,  aunt,  going  away  to-morrow/'  was  the  reply,  with 
a  return  of  the  caress,  in  the  laying  of  the  brown  head  close 
up  against  the  sheltering  shoulder,  and  a  closer  pressure  of 
the  other  hand  that  was  not  busy  smoothing  the  glossy  hair. 
V  I  am  sorry  to  leave  you  all,  especially  you  and  grandpa  ; 
but  you  know  that  I  can  do  better  in  the  city,  and  that  I  am 
really  tired  of  this  ceaseless  labor  in  the  school-room.  Why 
aunt,''  and  there  was  a  quiet  smile  creeping  away  from  the 
corners  of  her  mouth  as  she  spoke,  "do  you  know  how 
much  I  have  really  made  at  trying  to  drum  knowledge  into 
those  stupid  little  heads,  in  a  whole  twelvemonth  V 

"  No,  Kate,"  was  the  reply  of  the  aunt.  "I  suppose  not 
much,  but  enough  to " 

"Buy  a  pair  of  Congress  gaiters,  exactly.  You  know, 
aunt,  that  my  strongest  point,  as  a  teacher,  is  arithmetic.      I 


TIIE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  49 

think  T  have  coaxed  and  pounded  more  of  that  into  the  little 
numskulls,  than  any  thing  else.  Well,  I  have  been  applying 
it  to  my  own  labor  and  its  receipts,  and  I  find  that  after 
laboring  seven  hours  a  day  for  a  whole  year,  the  amount  I 
have  cleared  by  teaching  a  country  school,  over  and  above 
what  it  has  cost  me  for  my  board,  clothes  and  other  necessary 
expenses,  has  been  exactly  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  !" 

u  Why,  child,  it  can't  be  possible  !"  said  the  aunt,  the 
caressing  hand  still  moving  over  the  brown  hair  meanwhile. 
"  Is  that  all  you  have  made  ?  Well,  it  isn't  much,  is  it ! 
But  the  board,  you  know " 

"  The  board  I  could  have  had  for  nothing  ?  Yes,  I  know 
it,  aunt;  but  what  would  you  have  said  of  my  teaching 
school  at  all,  if  I  could  not  even  pay  my  board  and  was 
obliged  to  be  dependent  upon  charity  after  all !" 

"  You  were  always  so  sensitive  upon  that  point,  Kate," 
said  the  aunt,  "that- " 

"  So  sensitive  that  I  wras  right ;  was  I  not,  aunt  ?"  and  the 
young  face  for  a  moment  looked  up  at  the  elder  one  bent 
above  it,  with  so  bewitchingly  gentle  and  loveable  an  expres- 
sion, that  the  answer  was  a  kiss,  and  the  words  in  reply  only 
came  murmured  through  it : 

"  Yes,  yes,  Kate,  you  were  always  right !"  Then  after  a 
pause.  "But  we  shall  be  so  lonely  without  you,  when  you 
are  away  in  the  great  city." 

"And  yet  I  shall  not  be  far  from  you,  aunt,"  said  the  young 
girl.  "  Not  fifty  miles  ;  and  I  can  run  home  and  see  you  any 
afternoon  when  I  can  get  away.  I  shall  have  only  two  chil- 
dren to  manage,  at  Mrs.  Fullerton's,  instead  of  thirty  or 
forty  ;  and  think  of  my  receiving  more  money  for  doing  that 
little  labor  than  for  teaching  that  whole  noisy  school!  I 
must  go,  I  should  go,  you  know,  dear  aunt." 

"  Of  course  you  must — of  course  you  should,"  was  the 
reply,  "  and  it  is  only  my  selfishness  at  thinking  how  lonely  I 
shall  be  when  you  are  gone,  that  makes  me  talk  in  this  way 
as  if  I  could  hold  you  back  by  speaking.  Go,  Kate,  fulfil  the 
duty  to  which  you  seem  to  be  called,  and  God  bless  and  keep 
you."  The  hand  laid  on  the  young  girl's  head  had  stopped 
its  caressing  movement,  now,  but  it  still  rested  there,  and 
3 


80  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

beside  it  lay  another,  and  they  were  both  giving  the  dear 
pressure  of  love  and  blessing,  as  the  lips  s}dlabled  that  short 
and  fervent  and  unstudied  prayer. 

"Hark!  what  was  that?  It  sounded  like  a  hurrah,  and 
yet  it  could  not  be,  here  on  Sunday  morning. n 

The  speakers  were  Mistress  Bessy  White,  widow,  and  her 
niece,  Kate  Haviland,  the  only  daughter  of  a  dead  brother. 
And  the  place  where  the  conversation  occurred  was  in  the 
doorway  and  on  the  porch  of  a  pleasant  little  farmhouse, 
in  the  out-skirts  of  what  may  be  here  designated  as  Duffs- 
boro,  a  country  village  within  forty  miles  of  the  commercial 
metropolis,  and  on  the  edge  of  one  of  the  great  battle-fields 
of  the  Revolution,  that  is  oftenest  named  from  the  intimate 
connection  of  the  Father  of  his  Country  with  the  details  of 
the  conflict  which  took  place  there  on  one  hot  and  bloody  day 
of  177  7. 

The  humble  but  comfortable-looking  little  farm-house,  only 
a  story  and  a  half  in  height,  with  a  porch  that  was  covered 
with  roses  and  vines  in  the  later  season,  stood  half-hidden 
among  the  trees  that  bordered  the  main  road  leading  into  the 
village,  and  on  the  southern  slope  of  a  gentle  knoll  thai  gave 
it  cool  breezes  and  seemed  to  elevate  it  above  the  dust  of  the 
road  and  the  level  of  the  travel  that  passed  along  it.  An 
hundred  yards  past  the  house,  to  the  west,  the  road  curved,  and 
the  houses  of  the  village  could  be  seen  glimmering  through 
the  trees,  in  summer,  rising  on  the  slope  of  an  opposite  and 
higher  hill,  with  a  little  village  church  standing  near  the 
summit,  and  its  sharp  white  spire  thrown  out  clear  against 
the  blue  sky.  The  houses  of  the  main  village  could  be 
even  more  easily  than  usual,  in  the  soft  but  clear  air  of  that 
April  morning,  for  a  slight  shower  had  laid  the  dust  late  the 
evening  before,  and  the  spring  had  only  brought  forward  the 
foliage  to  that  condition  of  bursting  from  the  bud  in  green 
and  satin-like  sprigs,  graphically  designated  by  the  country 
farmers  as  "the  size  of  a  crow's-foot."  Xot  only  the  church 
spire  but  the  church  itself,  and  the  outlines  of  most  of  the 
houses  of  the  village,  could  be  seen  through  the  trees,  look- 
ing from  the  porch  of  the  farm-house.  A  little  later  in  the 
morning,  and  the  sound  of  the  bell  from  that  spire  would  be 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  ft 

hoard  fringing  pleasantly  across  the  intervening  fields  calling 
the  pillagers  and  the  country  people  to  morning  service,  and 
half  an  hour  still  later,  the  road  and  the  path  that  bordered 
"  would  be  dotted  with  people  in  carriages,  and  people  on 
horseback,  and  people  on  foot,  all  pressing  on  through  the 
fresh  April  sunshine,  at  least  to  the  form  of  worship  of  the 
Benevolence  whose  smile  it  seemed  to  typify, 

Perhaps  that  April  sunshine  might  have  peeped  through 
many  a  window  and  glinted  through  the  opening  foliage  of 
many  a  broad  tree,  before  it  rested  upon  a  fairer  vision  than 
that  on  the  piazza  of  the  little  farmhouse—age  and  youth 
both  in  the  perfection  of  physical  beauty  and  mental  good- 
ness. fc 

Sixty  years  might  have  passed   over   Mrs.    Bessy  White 
Widow,  and  they  had  of  course  done  their  work,  but  they  had 
done   it   gently  and  lovingly  as  beseemed   the  good    *  Her 
brown  eyes  had  lost  something  of  their  light,  but  no  opacity 
in  their  circumferences  indicated  that  the  sight  had  been  seri- 
ously impaired  ;  there  were  many  wrinkles  on  the  once  fair 
face,  but  they  seemed  to   have  crept  and  nestled  there   not 
been  graven  there  by  the  sharp  touch  of  passion  or  the  agony 
of  long  sorrow  ;  the  hair  that  peeped  beneath  the  front  of  the 
widow's  cap  was  heavily  grayed,  but  it  was  -raved  evenly 
there  were  none  of  the   heavy  dashes  of  white  in  the  midst 
of  the  dark,  denoting  intense  suffering,  mental  or  physical 
and  the  gray  hair  was  almost  a  halo  round  the  head  ;   the  tall 
form  was  bent  a  little,  but  a  very  little,  as  it  showed  beneath 
the  carefully  pinned  kerchief  and  under  the  grav  morning- 
dress,  but  it  did  not  need  a  keen  eye  to  see  that  that  form  had 
once  been  almost  a  sculptor's  model,  and  that  it  had  lost  little 
of  its  roundness  or  elasticity  as  thirty  crept  on  to  forty   and 
forty  to  fifty,  and  fifty  to  the  sixth  decade.     A  very  pleasant 
picture,  to  any  eye  capable  of  taking  in  the  beauty  of  coming 
age,  would  have  been  the   motherly  woman,  even  had  she 
held  beside  her  no  foil  to  throw  her  into  contrast  without  un- 
dervaluing her. 

i  No  fitter  foil  could  have  been  presented,  than  that  shown 
m  bonny  Kate  Haviland,  twenty-two  and  as  fair  that  day  as 
her  aunt  had  probably  been  forty  long  years  before,  of  medium 


52  THE      DATS      OF      SHODDY. 

Leight,  two  inches  shorter  than  the  matron  beside  her,  she 
was  not  eclipsed  and  obscured  by  a  morning-wrapper,  as  she 
might  have  been  at  the  Bame  hour  in  the  city  ;  and  her  neatly- 
fitting  dress  of  light  print  showed  a  plump  and  well-rounded 
form,  broad  though  slightly  sloping  at  the  shoulders,  pliant 
at  the  waist,  the  chest  well  thrown  forward  and  the  figure 
erect,  and  a  springy  little  foot  occasionally  peeping  out  from 
beneath  the  skirts  and  patting  the  floor  of  the  piazza,  to  show 
that  nature,  careful  of  the  face  and  figure,  had  not  disdained 
care  even  upon  that  portion  which  spurned  the  ground. 

We  have  said  that  nature  had  been  careful  of  face  as  well 
as  figure  ;  and  yet  hundreds  of  observers  might  have  been 
found,  not  willing  to  concede  that  Kate  Haviland  could  lay 
any  positive  claims  to  beauty.  They  would  have  been  out- 
numbered, however  ;  for  only  a  small  proportion  of  mankind 
are  aware  that  beauty  cannot  be  found  except  in  features 
moulded  after  the  Medician  Tenus  or  some  other  pattern  of 
Greek  antiquity,  and  there  are  quite  a  large  proportion  of 
observers  who  find  it  in  any  combination  which  pleases  them, 
makes  them  happier  when  they  behold  it,  and  indicates  the 
possession  of  true  goodness.  The  head  may  have  been  a 
shade  too  large  for  due  proportion  with  the  body,  especially 
in  the  frontal  region,  and  the  brow  may  have  been  a  little  too 
fully  rounded  for  perfect  elegance.  Then,  again,  the  very 
dark  eyes,  almost  black,  with  sweeping  dark  lashes,  may  have 
been  a  little  too  close  together,  and  the  nose  too  much  de- 
pressed at  the  root,  so  as  to  rise  a  little  too  obtrusively  from 
the  level  of  the  face.  But  all  this  was  forgotten  in  the  wealth 
of  chestnut  brown  hair,  swept  plainly  back  from  the  full  fore- 
head and  presenting  on  the  back  of  the  head  a  luxuriance 
that  owed  nothing  to  false  braids  and  painful  matching  among 
the  stock  of  the  wig-maker — the  clear  cheek,  very  fair,  but  a 
little  browned  by  the  sun  and  showing  a  rose  fighting  with  a 
dimple  in  the  centre — the  lips  full  and  with  a  little  pout, 
slightly  petulant,  perhaps,  but  much  more  merry,  loving  and 
mischievous — and  the  full  chin  and  rounded  throat,  exhibiting 
rather  determination  than  weakness  of  character. 

Such  was  the  picture  presented  by  Kate  Haviland,  the 
whilome  countrv-school-mistress  who  was  about  to  abandon 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  53 

that  any  thing-but-sinecnrical  profession  for  the  life  of  a  prf- 
viitc  school  toucher  and  governess  in  the  city  ;  and  Aunt 
Bessy  had  certainly  full  warrant  in  personal  attraction,  as  she 
hud  in  the  knowledge  what  a  good,  and  true,  and  brave  and 
loving-  heart  lav  within  all  this,  for  the  long  continued  caress 
with  which  she  seemed  to  protest  against  the  young  girl's 
leaving  her. 

There  was  another  portion  of  the  picture  which  would 
have  been  presented  to  a  spectator  who  stood  on  the  steps  of 
the  portico  in  front  and  looked  towards  the  house,  but  which 
was  not  taken  in  by  the  knowledge  of  either  of  the  persons 
just  introduced.  The  two  had  stepped  out  from  the  door, 
during  their  conversation,  entirely  upon  the  floor  of  the 
piazza,  and  the  instant  after  they  had  done  so  the  door  had 
been  filled  by  a  third  person.  This  was  an  old  man — very 
old,  to  all  appearance  ;  his  once  tall  form  thin  and  bent,  his 
hair  only  a  mocking  memory  of  the  thick  locks  that  once 
clustered  on  his  head,  and  the  little  remainder  white  as  the 
driven  snow;  his  poor  old  face  one  mass  of  deep  wrinkles 
crossing  each  other  like  the  line  work  on  a  fine  steel-engrav- 
ing ;  his  eyes  opaque  and  apparently  fixed  on  vacancy  ;  his 
lower  jaw  dropping  and  the  toothless  mouth  exposed,  as  if 
from  very  inability  to  keep  the  nerves  at  sufficient  tension  to 
bold  it  in  place  ;  his  withered  hands  so  thin  that  they  were 
little  more  than  claws,  one  keeping  its  trembling  hold  on  the 
top  of  a  stout  bone-headed  cane  and  the  other  an  equally 
trembling  grasp  on  the  lintel  of  the  door,  the  whole  frame 
shaking  as  if  it  would  soon  tremble  itself  away  to  the  dust 
of  its  original  elements.  Old — very  old  ;  standing  on  the 
last  crumbling  verge  of  possible  mortality.  And  all  this  had 
Amos  Haviland  warrant  to  be,  for  he  had  once  fought,  though 
then  only  a  boy,  in  the  closing  battles  of  the  Revolution,  and 
had  himself  seen  the  proud  face  of  Washington  and  heard  the 
cheers  that  went  up  from  the  thinned  ranks  of  the  patriot 
army,  when  Cornwallis  surrendered  at  Yorktown.  He  had 
afterwards  fought  with  Brown  on  the  northern  lines,  in  tha 
battles  of  1812-15,  and  won  a  commission  there  which  had 
given  him  a  sword  ;  but  he  had  always  regarded  that  portion 
of  his  career  as  secondary  in  glory  to  the  other,  and  whila 


54  T  n  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

the  brail)  bad  remained  clear  enough  to  make  his  relation?  in- 
telligible, they  bad  almost  always  been  of  what  be  saw  when 
a  boy  during-  the  great  struggle,  instead  of  what  he  had  done 

and  seen  done  in  the  flush  of  bis  manhood.  Old — very  old  : 
death  seemed  almost  to  have  forgotten  him,  for  ninety  and 
ninety-five  had  yet  escaped  the  spoiler,  and  he  stood  on  the 
verge  of  that  almost  impossible  age — one  hundred  !  A  few 
months  more  would  see  him  a  centenarian.  ITe  talked  little, 
now,  and  not  very  intelligibly,  though  he  had  still  enough 
brain  remaining  to  understand  what  was  said  to  him,  and 
still  enough  left  of  his  decaying  vigor  to  crawl  out  from  his 
little  room  on  the  ground  floor,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  his 
daughter  or  one  of  his  grandchildren,  or  tottering  along  alo-  e 
on  bis  heavy  cane.  He  had  crawled  out,  now,  without  either 
of  his  relatives  being  aware  of  bis  presence,  and  stood  thus 
framed  in  the  door  behind  them,  looking  out,  through  his  dim 
eyes  and  in  silence,  on  them  and  on  the  clear  April  morning. 

"  Hark  !"  again  said  Kate  llaviland,  when  a  moment  had 
passed  after  her  last  exclamation.  "  It  is  a  hurrah — I  can  bear 
the  words  distinctly!  What  can  it  mean,  here  on  Sunday 
morning  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  dear,  I  am  sure,"  answered  the  aunt. 
"  Tt  must  be  some  of  the  wild  fellows  from  the  city,  who 
have  no  respect  for  the  day,  coming  here  to  disturb  us." 

Another  moment  of  pause,  and  then 

"  Look  !"  said  the  young  girl,  whose  eyes  were  something 
keener  than  those  of  Aunt  Bessy.  "  See — there  are  people 
on  the  roof  of  the  church  yonder,  and  one  is  climbing  to  the 
top  of  the  steeple  !" 

"  Oh  no,  my  child,  that  cannot  be,"  said  Aunt  Bessy. 
11  They  certainly  would  not  permit  such  work  up  at  the  vil- 
lage, on  the  Sabbath,  unless  the  church  was  on  fire  ;  and  I  do 
not  suppose  they  would  hurrah  about  that." 

(The  good  old  lady  had  probably  never  been  present  at  a 
fire  in  any  of  the  metropolitan  cities,  or  she  might  have  been 
aware  that  therQ  is  no  occasion  in  all  the  line  of  accident  or 
adventure,  more  likely  to  provoke  noise  or  bring  out  any  num- 
ber of  shouts  of  the  most  enthusiastic  description,  than  a  fire  ! 
But  of  that  hereafter,  possibly.) 


Til  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  55 

';One  of  them  in  climbing  the  steeple,"  persisted  Kate, 
while  the  old  lady  was  nibbing  her  spectacles  for  a  more  ac- 
curate  view.  "  There,  he  has  reached  the  top  and  is  busy 
fastening  something  there." 

"  True  as  you  live  !"  said  Aunt  Bessy,  when  she  had  pol- 
ished her  spectacles,  put  them  carefully  upon  her  temples 
and  fairly  surveyed  the  strange  proceeding.  "  The  church 
must  be  on  fire,  or  they  would  never  allow  such  things  on 
Sunday  !     But  why  don't  we  see  the  smoke  ?" 

"  Xo — see,  aunt  !"  cried  Kate,  with  a  strange  tremor  in 
her  voice,  and  a  still  stranger  trembling  at  her  heart,  as  she 
Baw  the  figure  that  had  been  at  the  top  of  the  spire  glide 
down  again,  then  a  dark  mass  of  something  soft  and  loose- 
looking  go  up  as  if  it  ran  upon  a  rope,  and  the  moment  after 
a  flag  floated  out  on  the  westerly  breeze  from  the  very  top 
of  the  steeple.     "  See,  aunt,  it  is  the  American  flag  !"  • 

"  I  declare  it  is  !"  exclaimed  the  old  lady.  "  Well,  I  be- 
lieve I  love  that  flag  well  enough  to  see  it  anywhere  else,  but 
of  all  the  pranks  I  ever  saw  in  my  life,  that  is  the  oddest  to 
climb  the  church  steeple  and  hang  it  there  on  a  Sunday 
morning  !" 

"  Aunt !"  said  the  young  girl,  a  sudden  thought  striking  her, 
and  the  recollection  of  the  troubled  news  from  the  South  com- 
ing into  her  mind,  though  they  at  the  little  farm-house  had 
heard  nothing  since  some  days  before,  when  Anderson  was 
known  to  be  leaguered  in  Sumter,  and  the  government  was 
talking  of  trying  to  reinforce  him — "Aunt,  it  is  no  freak! 
Something  has  happened  !  that  flag  does  not  go  up  for  noth- 
ing !  Who  knows  ?  Perhaps  Major  Anderson  has  taken 
Charleston,  or  burned  it  down  !  I  hope  he  has,  and  then  they 
may  raise  flags  anywhere  they  please  on  Sunday  morning — 
on  the  top  of  the  pulpit,  if  they  like  !" 

"flush,  Kate,  you  are  crazy!"  said  Aunt  Bessy.  "You 
are  a  good  girl,  but  you  must  not  think  of  putting  flags  in  the 
pulpit.     They  don't  belong  on  churches,  my  dear  !" 

"Anywhere — everywhere  !"  cried  the  young  girl.  "After 
the  Cross,  the  flag  of  one's  native  land  is  the  holiest  thing  in 
the  world.  I  would  not  have  it  put  over  the  Cross,  but  any 
where  beneath  it,  or  even  beside  it.    As  there  does  not  hap 


56  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

pen  to  be  a  cross  on  the  top  of  our  steeple,  I  think  they  can- 
not get  the  flag  too  high,  if  there  is  any  news  from  the  South 
that  demands  it." 

The  young  girl  did  not  know  it ;  but  that  day  and  that 
hour,  the  morning  of  Sunday  the  fourteenth  of  April,  18G1, 
was  proving  that  others  besides  herself  believed  in  setting  the 
Hag  beside  the  Cross,  or  immediately  beneath  it.  She  saw 
one  ilag  go  up  ;  it  was  the  type  of  ten  thousand  floating  up  at 
the  same  hour.  She  heard  a  faint  hurrah,  from  a  few  voices: 
the  sound  was  but  the  echo  of  a  shout  that  was  jarring  the 
very  heaven*,  as  it  went  up  from  a  thousand  miles  square  of 
loyal  American  territory.  She  saw,  though  faintly  and  afar 
oil',  what  she  and  others  may  remember  with  pride  to  the  last 
day  of  their  lives,  whatever  may  be  the  after  fate  of  the  nation 
— the  apotheosis  of  the  American  Flag. 

It  will  long  remain  a  question,  perhaps,  whether  that  mo- 
ment was  not  the  most  glorious  in  all  American  history.  Nor 
lias  the  history  of  any  land  its  parallel,  in  the  sudden  spring- 
ing into  life  and  vigor  of  a  feeling  that  had  slept  and  seemed 
to  be  dead  or  dying.  The  flag  had  been  the  emblem  dishon- 
ored— it  was  now  the  emblem  worshipped.  A  week  before, 
it  had  hung  as  a  limp  rag  from  the  flagstaff,  scarcely  noticed — 
apparently  powerless— degraded  for  the  first  time  in  its  long 
record.  It  had  seemed,  during  the  days  and  weeks  through 
which  the  authorities  at  Washington  had  paltered  and  wavered, 
as  if  any  reprobate  might  have  torn  down  that  flag,  spat  upon 
and  trampled  upon  it,  subjected  it  to  any  shame  and  degrada- 
tion, without  any  man  born  under  it  having  nerve  and  hope 
enough  to  strike  the  traitor  to  the  earth.  A  few  hours — a  few 
days — and  what  had  been  the  change,  in  country  and  in  city  ! 
No  longer,  then,  a  weak  and  inanimate  thing,  drooping  from 
flagstaffs  scarcely  able  to  support  it,  and  moved  by  no  breeze 
that  had  power  to  shake  out  its  folds, — it  blew  out,  that  Sab- 
bath morning,  free  and  clear  to  the  heavens  wmose  morning 
flush,  and  blue  of  noon,  and  midnight  glory  of  azure  and  star- 
light, were  in  its  stripes  and  stars — blew  out  on  the  winds  of 
the  free  and  unconquered  North,  the  breeze  that  fluttered  it 
added  to  and  strengthened  by  the  voices  of  twenty  millions  of 
people,  who  had  never  before  known  that  flag  to  be  dishonored, 


TEE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  57 

and  who  had  resolved  to  give  up  their  lives  before  they  would 
permit  dishonor  to  be  entailed  upon  it.  Let  some  rash  hand 
have  been  then  laid  in  violence  upon  the  bunting  which  had 
before  seemed  of  so  little  consequence  to  the  men  of  America 
—let  some  rash  hand  but  havo  been  laid  upon  it  then,  where 
the  eyes  of  men,  or  women,  or  even  of  children,  in  the  loyal 
Slates,  could  see  the  outrage,  and  the  life  of  the  owner  of 
that  hand  would  not  have  been  worth  a  pin's  purchase.  He 
had  better,  at  that  moment,  been  in  the  midst  of  that  howling 
pack  who  in  the  ultra  South  were  bearing  the  flag  to  mocking 
and  dishonored  burial — he  had  better  been  there  and.  dared  be 
true  to  his  country,  than  in  any  portion  of  the  loyal  States 
and  fallen  under  the  anger  of  those  who  dared  not  be  false 
to  it! 

Should  the  American  Union  have  crumbled  away  to  ruin 
the  very  day  after,  and  the  old  flag  under  which  it  had  won 
its  three  quarters  of  a  century  of  triumphs  been  pulled  down 
and  laid  reverently  away  forever,  in  curious  museums  and  the 
old  arsenals  where  they  gather  the  warlike  relics  of  the  past 
— could  this  impossible  thing  have  occurred — never  saw  any 
flag  on  earth  so  bright  a  close  to  its  destiny  as  that  which 
would  then  have  been  recorded  of  the  Flag  of  the  Union. 
One  moment  eclipsed,  it  had  burst  at  once  into  a  glory  and  a 
sacredness  unmatched  by  any  banner  ever  borne  since  that 
behind  which  the  crusading  hosts  marched  out  to  Palestine. 
Not  one  man,  but  the  collective  strength  of  all  the  loyal 
States,  had  hugged  it  anew  to  the  heart.  Not  one  had  gazed 
upon  it  with  a  new  devotion,  but  every  eye  that  could  see  the 
blue  sky  and  the  spring  sunlight.  Not  from  one  building  in 
a  hundred  had  it  waved,  as  in  ordinary  times,  but  from  every 
flagstaff,  and  front,  and  roof,  and  awning-post,  where  it  was 
possible  to  display  the  emblem  of  the  national  pride.  Not 
from  one  mast  or  gaff  at  our  docks,  had  it  floated,  but  from 
the  spars  of  every  craft  that  bore  one  yard  of  bunting,  from 
the  proudest  ship  to  the  humblest  fishing-boat.  Not  alone 
had  it  waved  in  flaunting  silk  and  enduring  worsted — in  great 
flags  that  might  have  headed  an  army, — but  in  every  size  of 
flag  and  description  of  material,  from  the  standard  large 
enough  to  wrap  a  dozen  dead  gloriously  in  its  folds,  to  the 


66  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

penny  toy-flag  of  the  boy.  It  had  been  seen  on  the  stage- 
top,  on  the  harness  and  bridle  of  the  cartman's  horse,  on  the 
lappel  of  tl  nan's  coat,  on  the  point  of  the  lady's  par- 

asol.   From  hotel,  and  store,  and  private  1.  d  waved; 

and  raised  to  the  top  of  Bunker  Hill  Monument  of  the  Puri- 
tan, it  had  been  answered  by  the  flap  of  its  mate  from  the 
spire  of  Old  Trinity  of  the  Churchman,  and  even  that  an- 
swered back  by  the  flutter  of  still  another  mate  from  the  dome 
Of  the  Cathedral  of  the  Catholic.  Ilad  ever  flag  been  *o 
honored  ?  Ilad  ever  devotion  to  a  flag  told  so  pregnant  a 
story,  of  what  it  costs  to  be  a  great  nation,  and  what  it  must 
cost  to  plunge  one  into  disruption  and  destruction?  And 
would  not  the  Flag,  could  it  have  disappeared  forever  from 
national  view  the  very  day  after  that  apotheosis,  have  ended 
Peer  more  gloriously  than  any  formed  by  the  hand  of 
inan  since  the  creation  ? 

But  all  this,  which  is  to-day  a  matter  of  history  and  of 
historical  speculation,  was  unknown  and  unthought  of  by 
Kate  Haviland,  in  whose  heart  was  merely  bubbling  up  that 
feeling  of  true  though  blind  patriotism  which  lias  seemed  to 
be  the  characteristic  of  woman  in  all  countries  and  in  all 
—as  she  saw  the  emblem  of  her  country's  pride  flung 
from  the  spire  of  the  little  village  church  at  so  unseasonable 
a  time  as  to  indicate  that  some  event  of  importance  must 
have  occurred. 

Her  words  of  devotion  to  the  flag,  which  have  been  so  long 
interrupted  by  this  digression,  had  indeed  scarcely  left  her 
lips  when  her  attention  was  attracted  by  a  horseman  riding 
rapidly  down  the  road  from  the  eastward,  and  about  to  pass 
the  house  toward  the  village.  She  recognized  him  at  the 
same  moment  as  Ben  Davidson,  a  stripling  brother  of  one  of 
her  girl  scholars ;  and  as  the  young  man  happened  to  have 
his  head  turned  toward  the  house,  the  recognition  was 
mutual.  He  drew  rein  as  he  came  close  to  the  gate,  threw 
his  hand  over  his  shoulder  toward  the  church,  and  said  : 

"  Do  you  see  the  red,  white  and  blue  there  ?  They  have 
got  it  out,  away  at  the  top  of  the  steeple  !'? 

"  Yes  "  said  the  young  girl,  "  I  see  it.     But  what  does  it 


THli     .DAYS      OF      SUODDY.  59 

ibean  ?     Has   any  thing'  happened?     Have   you    any  news 
from  the  South  ?" 

"Why,  haven't  you  heard  ?"  asked  Davidson,  speaking  in 
a  loud  voice,  but  evidently  in  too  much  of  a  hurry  to  think 
of  alighting.  "  The  secessionera  attacked  Sumter  on  Friday  ; 
it  is  burning  and  must  be  surrendered  to-morrow.  We  got 
the  news  last  night,  up  in  the  city.  Winter  and  Drexcl  came 
down  this  morning,  and  they  are  having  a  terrible  time  there. 
Everybody  going  crazy,  and  they're  about  as  crazy  up  yonder 
at  the  village.     Flags  going  up  everywhere,  I  guess." 

"  We're-  Major  Anderson  and  all  his  men  killed  ?"  asked 
Aunt  Bessy,  in  a  voice  agitated  enough  to  have  belonged  to 
a  much  younger  woman. 

"  Nary  a  one  of  them,"  said  Davidson.  "  They  have 
promised  to  surrender  the  fort  and  come  away.  But  that 
don't  make  any  difference.  There  is  going  to  be  a  war, 
sure.  They  have  got  some  of  the  city  papers  down  at 
the  village,  and  they  say  there  will  be  a  call  made  in  a 
dav  or  two — perhaps  to-morrow — for  troops  to  put  down  the 
rebels.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?  That's  what  the  flag 
means,  upon  the  top  of  the  steeple  yonder.  But  I  mustn't 
stay  any  longer.  Good  mornin',  ladies.  G'lang,  Bob  !"  and 
away  gallopped  Mr.  Ben  Davidson,  to  do  his  late  share 
among  the  flag-raisers  and  other  national  'demonstrators  up 
at  Duffsboro. 

Neither  the  aunt,  the  niece,  nor  the  young  stripling  who 
gave  them  this  intelligence,  had  seen  the  old  man  standing  in 
the  door.  Had  they  done  so,  they  would  have  seen  that  he 
put  one  trembling  haud  up  behind  his  ear,  to  catch  the  words 
of  the  horseman  more  plainly,  then  that  he  seemed  to  shake 
and  shiver  even  more  than  his  habit,  and  that  he  turned  and 
tottered  away  from  the  door  just  as  Davidson  gallopped  off. 

"  Good  heaven  !"  exclaimed  the  young  girl.  "  They  have 
fired  on  the  flag  and  burned  Sumter.  And  there  is  to  be  a 
war.      Oh,  how  I  wish  I  was  a  man  !" 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  are  not,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  lady, 
and  the  look  of  love  with  which  she  regarded  the  young  girl 
showed  that  she  really  was  grateful  for  the  impediment  of 
sex  which  would  keep  that  fair  young  head  from  danger  when 


60  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

war  should  break  upon  the  land.  "  There  will  be  enough  men 
without  you,  and  (Jod  is  over  us  all  !" 

"  Yes,  aunt,  God  is  over  as  all,"  answered  the  young  girl. 
"  But  he  does  nothing  for  us  without  human  hands,  and  he 
allows  some  of  us  to  work  confoundedly  hard  for  the  bread  we 
eat  and  the  clothes  we  wear.  Calling  for  soldiers  all  over 
the  country.  And  only  think  how  many  thousands  they  may 
need!  And  then  if  they  should  not  come  !  But  they  will 
come,  aunt,  if  there  is  one  spark  of  the  spirit  of  the  old  times 
left  among  us — and  I  hope  there. is  !" 

''  I  hope  so,"  said  the  aunt.  "But  come — this  will  be  your 
last  day  at  church,  and  I  suppose  they  will  hold  church  to- 
day, even  if  there  is  a  flag  flying  from  the  top  of  the 
steeple." 

"  lres,  aunt,  it  is  nearly  time,  now  !"  and  the  two  turned 
away  from  the  piazza,  to  go  in.  But  they  were  not  to  go  to 
church  that  day,  though  perchance  to  enter  a  place  equally 
sacred. 

As  they  entered  the  door  from  the  portico,  there  was  a  loud, 
ringing  crash  heard  in  some  portion  of  the  back  part  of  the 
house,  a  clank  as  of  metal,  ending  with  what  seemed  to  be  a 
heavy  thump  on  the  floor.  Both  aunt  and  niece  started, 
though  without  the  least  idea  from  what  the  sound  could  have 
proceeded. 

"Something  must  have  fallen  in  the  kitchen,  I  think,"  said 
the  aunt,  after  a  moment's  pause,  and  she  passed  through  the 
hall,  directly  back,  to  see  whether  some  marauding  dog  or 
cat  had  not  disturbed  the  equilibrium  of  a  pot  or  a  kettle,  and 
sent  it  crashing  down  to  the  floor  in  that  manner.  Kate  had 
a  fancy  that  the  sound  came  from  the  story  above,  and  passed 
through  the  door  to  the  right  and  up  the  stairway  to  ascer- 
tain. Neither  discovered  any  thing  out  of  due  order,  and  the 
moment  after  they  again  met  in  the  hall. 

"  Something  has  tumbled  down  aomeivhere,"  said  the  young 
girl,  oracularly.  "  Things  don't  make  such  noises  as  that  when 
they  are  lying  still  and  behaving  themselves."  Suddenly  the 
light  went  out  from  her  face,  and  an  expression  of  intense 
anxiety  took  its  place.  "Aunt,  maybe  it  was  in  grandpa's 
room!     Only  think — suppose  he  has ." 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  61 

"Oh,  you  dear  child,  don't  frighten  me  to  death  !"  exclaimed 
Aunt  Bessy.  "If  he  has  fallen  bo  as  to  make  that  noise,  lie 
must  be  dead  as  a  stone  by  this  time!"  So  he  would  have 
been,  for  she  quite  forgot  that  the  poor  old  man  had  not 
weight  enough  remaining  to  produce  such  a  crash,  had  he 
fallen  through  the  entire  house,  from  garret  to  cellar  !  "  Dear 
me,  Kate  !  come  with  me ;  I  am  so  frightened  !"  and  together, 
aunt  and  niece,  both  trembling  with  apprehension,  opened 
another  door  to  the  left,  passed  through  the  half-darkened 
"  best  room,"  or  parlor,  and  opened  another  door  which  led 
into  the  little  room  of  old  Amos  Haviland.  There  and  then 
a  sight  was  presented  which  fully  explained  the  sound  they 
had  heard,  and  which  neither  of  them  will  ever  forget,  to 
their  dying  da}^. 

The  poor  old  man  (as  we  know,  though  his  relatives  did 
not)  had  heard  Ben  Davidson  telling  of  the  attack  upon  Sum- 
ter and  the  flag.  How  much  his  dimmed  sense  had  caught 
of  the  truth  involved  in  the  attack,  of  the  plans  and  purposes 
of  the  rebels,  and  of  the  President's  call  for  troops,  can  never 
be  known  until  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  revealed  ;  but 
that  he  had  caught  something  of  the  peril  of  the  nation,  and 
of  the  need  of  soldiers,  was  evident;  and  it  was  the  most 
touching  thing  in  nature,  to  see  how  the  old  fire  lived  yet — 
the  merest  slumbering  spark,  but  pure  and  steadfast,  in  the 
very  dying  ashes  of  his  mortal  frame. 

Over  the  little  looking-glass  in  his  room,  for  many  a  long 
year,  had  hung  the  sword  used  by  him  in  the  war  of  1812 — a 
heavy  old  sabre,  brass-hilted,  and  in  an  iron  scabbard.  The 
old  man  had  wished  to  have  it  hung  in  that  place,  on  the  op- 
posite side  of  his  little  room  from  the  bed,  so  that  he  could 
look  upon  it  and  recall  the  past,  even  when  too  weak  and  ill 
to  remove  from  his  pallet.  And  there  it  had  remained — not 
even  taken  down  when  the  careful  housekeepers  dusted  the 
room  ;  and  it  is  probable  that  the  old  man's  hand  had  not 
rested  upon  it  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  however  often  his 
dimmed  eyes  may  have  taken  in  that  parallel  to  the  reminder 
of  the  weak  and  broken  Richelieu,  of  the  time  when  he  "at 
Kochelle  did  cleave  the  stalwart  Englisher." 

Coming  in  from  the  door,  after  hearing  the  news  brought 


62  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

by  the  horseman,  the  centenarian  had  evidently  first  paid  a 
visit  to  the  kitchen  (the  next  room),  and  possessed  himself  of 
the  large  file  used  for  sharpening  knives  at  the  table.  Then 
he  had  crawled  back  to  his  own  room,  managed  to  mount  a 
chair,  and  tried  to  take  down  his  old  sword  The  chair  had 
given  way  beneath  him,  or  his  weak  limits  had  refused  their 
office,  for  he  had  fallen  to  the  floor,  and  the  chair  lay  over- 
turned at  a  little  distance  from  him.  At  the  same  time  the 
sword,  loosened  from  its  nail,  had  come  clattering  down, 
striking  the  little  table  under  the  glass  and  then  the  floor, 
making  the  loud  noise  they  had  heard  upon  the  piazza,  and 
flying  out  of  the  scabbard,  as  his  weak  hand  could  never  have 
extricated  it  from  the  rust  in  which  it  was  imbedded.  The 
poor  old  man  had  been  so  badly  hurt  by  the  fall,  as  to  be  un- 
able to  rise  (he  would  never  rise  again,  it  seemed  probable, 
till  the  day  of  the  last  resurrection)  ;  but  he  had  managed  to 
grasp  the  hilt  of  the  sword,  and  to  retain  the  file  ;  and  at  the 
moment  when  Aunt  Bessy  and  Kate  entered  the  room,  in  a 
cramped  sitting  position,  and  evidently  in  such  suffering  that 
he  uttered  a  low  moan  at  intervals,  he  was  trying  to  draw 
the  file  over  the  dulled  and  rusted  edge  of  the  weapon,  sharp- 
ening it  for  use  !* 

"  Grandpa  !  dear  grandpa  !"  spoke  Kate,  kneeling  down 
beside  him,  while  Aunt  Bessy  seemed  so  much  alarmed  that 
she  could  scarcely  keep  her  feet  and  could  not  utter  a  word. 
"  Grandpa  !  dear  grandpa  !  are  you  hurt  ?"  But  the  old  man 
did  not  heed  her — perhaps  he  did  not  even  hear  her.  His 
eves,  less  opaque-looking  and  more  life-like  than  they  had 
been  for  years,  still  seemed  to  be  staring  at  vacanc}' ;  he  was 
still  trying  to  draw  the  file  across  the  rusted  edge  of  the  old 
sword  ;  and  as  Kate  knelt  beside  him,  she  could  catch  his 
broken  words — very  low  and  fitful,  and  intermingled  with 
moans,  but  yet  intelligible  to  her  watchful  ears  : 

"  Sharpen  it — sharpen  it — rebels — fight — soldiers — sharpen 
it — rebels — fight — soldiers. " 

Who  shall  say  that  this  was  not  the  Spirit  of  'Seventy-Six 
bequeathing  its  Massing  and  its  injunction  to  the  men  of 

.*The  incident  of  the   '•  Sharpening   of  the   Sword"  is   no   effort   of  the 
writer's  imagination,  hut  taken  from  a  relation  of  real  life  made  at  the  time. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  63 

'Sixty-One— sharpening  the  national  sword  destined  to  exe- 
cute  judgment  ttpoh  the  foes  of  the  land  and  the  enemies  of 
the  human  rac 

With  the  help  of  one  of  the  farm-hands  called  in  for  that 
purpose,  Amu  Bessy  and  Kate  carefully  and  tenderly 
removed  the  old  man  to  his  bod  and  disposed  his  tortured 
luabs  there  in  comparative  comfort.  Aunt  Bessy  was  about 
to  hang  up  the  sword  a^ain,  but  Kate  interpreted  aright  the 
look  of  his  eye  and  the  clutch  of  his  hand,  and  laid  it  on  the 
bed  beside  him.  There  the  weak  right  hand  -rasped  it  and 
imver  released  its  hold  until  it  let  go  of  life.  His  eyes  dosed 
after  a  time,  and  the  moan  ceased.  He  was  dropping  away 
to  his  last  sleep— the  excitement  of  the  moment  and  the 
shock  of  the  fall  had  been  too  much  for  the  frame  worn  and 
enfeebled  by  nearly  a  hundred  years.  ■  He  seemed  to  know 
but  one  thing— the  news  of  the  morning;  for  the  only  utter- 
ance they  caught  was  an  occasional  repetition— very  low  and 
broken— of  the  words  he  had  been  uttering  when  they  entered 
the  room  : 

"  Sharpen  it— sharpen  it— rebels— fight— soldiers  !" 
When  the  two  grieving  relatives,  kneeling  by  his  bed-side 
—grieving,  and  yet  \yith  no  bitter  tear  to  shed  over  so  ap- 
propriate a  close  to  a  life  so  much  prolonged  beyond  the 
common  lot  of  mortality,— when  they  and  the  half-dozen  of 
neighbors  who  had  gathered  into  the  death-chamber  at  their 
call,  heard  the  words  no  more  and  saw  that  the  right  hand 
had  released  its  weak  clutch  upon  the  sword,  they  saw,  too, 
that  the  old  soldier  had  departed  on  that  long  inarch  some 
time  ordered  for  all  of  us  by  the  Great  Captain. 

When  Kate  Haviland,  after  the  death,  went  out  again  to 
the  piazza,  it  was  afternoon,  the  stars  and  stripes  were  yet 
waving  from  the  top  of  the  spire  of. the  little  church  at  Dufts- 
boro,  and  she  caught  the  rattle  of  the  drum  of  the  little 
militia  company,  somewhat  prematurely  called  together.— 
from  the  village.  "There  are  no  Sabbaths  in  war,"  says 
some  writer  who  must  have  passed  through  a  national  strug- 
gle something  like  our  own  ;  and  the  centenarian  soldier, 
without  his  dulled  senses  knowing  the  fact,  had  died  with 
die  old  flag  flapping  above  him,  and  the  life  and  drum— must 
martial  of  all  martial  music   -sounding  ns  if  for  his  departure. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  Fullerton   norsE  on  East   Twenty-third   Street- 
Mrs.   FULLERTON  AND    MlSS  DOBA — A  COUPLE  OF  PEOPLE   OP 

decidedly  southern  proclivities — xed  mlnthorne,  an 
excellent  catch  as  a  husband — two  or  three  rows.  as 
"parlor  entertainments" — Mr.  Charles  Holt  as  a  son- 
in-law. 

A  handsome  house  on  East  Twenty-third  Street  not  far 
from  Madison  Avenue.  A  very  handsome  house,  brown- 
stone  with  high  stoop  of  the  same  material,  very  wide  front, 
the  window-caps  sculptured  into  fruits,  grape-clusters  and 
vine-leaves,  and  over  the  door  a  heavy  mass  of  fruit  and  floral 
sculpture,  enclosing  an  oval  shield,  with — alas  for  American 
aristocracy  ! — never  a  single  quartering  of  arms  to  place  upon 
it.  The  basement  windows  heavily  barred,  perhaps  to  prevent 
the  servant  girls  looking  out  at  the  grass-plats  in  the  front 
yard.  The  railings  of  the  front  yard  very  heavy  and  massive. 
The  door-way  from  the  landing,  very  deep  and  heavy,  in  dark 
oak,  with  lace  curtains  showing  through  the  glass  panellings 
of  the  inner  doors.  At  the  windows  on  the  drawing-room 
floor  heavy  lace  curtains,  and  outside  of  them  at  each  window 
one  red  and  one  yellow  side  curtain  of  rich  satin  heavily 
fringed  and  tasselled,  evidently  for  the  placing  of  sallow 
faces,  or  their  oppositcs,  in  proper  lights  for  display.  With- 
in, a  wide  hall,  guiltless  of  oil-cloth  or  carpeting  on  the  stair, 
and  hall  floor  and  stair-steps  in  polished  oak.  A  Flora,  in 
marble  or  plaster  (the  casual  observer  could  not  say  which)  in  a 
niche  at  the  first  turn  of  the  stairs.  Still  further  within  the 
penetralia,  a  double  parlor  or  drawing-room  on  the  first  floor, 
with  arch  between,  the  carpets  of  velvet  tapestry,  the  walls 
painted  in  the  faintest  blush  rose  color,  and  the  heavy  foliated 
cornice  matched  by  a  massive  floral  centre-piece  supporting  a 
large  chandelier  of  glass  over  bronze,  with  a  dozen  burners 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  65 

and  a  perfect  cloud  of  dripping  and  tingling  reflectors.     The 

furniture  in  dark  wood  and  hair,  with  an  oval  piano  standing 
behind  tin'  arch,  and  a  harp  near  it.  On  a  marble  centre- 
table,  in  front,  a  sweet  little  bust  of  Mozart,  under  a  glass 
shade,  and  half  a  dozen  picture  albums  and  books  scattered 
around  it.  On  the  walls  some  ten  or  a  dozen  pictures,  all 
landscapes  in  oil,  and  all  (as  close  observation  would  show) 
compositions  of  European  scenery  or  transcripts  of  Floridian 
swamps  or  Carolina  coasts. 

On  the  floor  above,  in  front,  a  large  parlor;  the  walls  in 
the  same  color,  the  furniture  corresponding  with  that  below, 
but  more  massive :  a  heavy  bronze  chandelier,  with  shades  of 
porcelain  ;  an  upright  piano  beside  the  door  opening  from 
the  hall;  heavy  rose  worsted  and  white  lace  curtains  at  the 
very  deep  windows — each  really  forming  an  alcove;  a  centre- 
table  with  a  few  books ;  a  card-table,  with  a  chess-board  lying 
upon  it;  the  few  pictures  on  the  walls,  engravings,  mostly 
portraits,  and  these,  again,  of  Southern  statesmen  or  soldiers. 
This  room  evidently  affected  by  the  family  and  by  those 
visitors  who  had  enough  of  intimacy  to  be  received  for 
pleasure  and  not  for  the  mere  show  of  acquaintance.  The 
whole  house  rather  a  success  than  otherwise,  in  point  of  style, 
and  needing  either  wealth  to  support  it,  or  excellent  credit. 
Mrs.  Fullerton,  the  lady  whose  name  figured  on  the  cards  sent 
out  from  it,  considered  it  as  decidedly  the  most  stylish  house 
in  town,  asking  nothing  from  Townsend  or  John  Anderson  ; 
and  all  her  visitors,  who  wished  to  be  received  a  second  time 
on  as  good  footing  as  that  achieved  at  first,  took  especial 
pains  to  make  the  elegance  of  the  appointments  (as  well  as 
the  beauty  and  grace  of  the  hostess  and  her  family)  matters 
of  no  infrequent  mention. 

Three  persons  occupied  the  parlor  on  the  second  floor,  at  a 
certain  hour  on  Sunday  evening  the  Fourteenth  of  April. 
The  first  (by  seniority  as  well  as  by  virtue  of  her  proud  posi- 
tion) was  Mrs.  Olympia  Fullerton,  widow  of  Randolph  Ful- 
lerton, purser  in  the  United  States  Navy,  now  some  years 
deceased.  She  was  understood  to  have  been  born,  some  five 
and  forty  years  before,  near  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  the 
wealthy  daughter  of  the  still  wealthier  Judge  Brixtone,  of 
4 


6fi  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

that  locality;  while  her  husband,  dntincr  back  a  few  years 
earlier  than  herself  in  age,  hail  sprang  in:  ttce  not  far 

from   Carrolton.  Maryland.     She  had    been  educated 

was  .-aid)  at  one  of  the  female  academies  of  Virginia,  and 
had  consequently  escaped  any  infection  of  Northern  heresy,  to 
which  so  many  Southern  young  ladies,  a  few  years  ago,  were 
so  dangerously  exposed  while  pursuing  their  studies  in  the 
private  academies  of  New  York  and  New  England.  Mr. 
Fullerton,  never  resident  in  the  North  until  long  after  his 
marriage,  had  consequently  escaped  any  Northern  infection, 
in  like  manner;  and  it  might  have  been  said,  with  truth, 
during  the  life-time  of  the  worthy  purser,  that  a  more  decided 
and  thorough-going  couple,  as  to  Southern  sentiment,  could 
net  very  well  be  found  within  the  limits  of  the  free  States. 
Their  four  children  were  not  much  more  likely  to  suffer  from 
any  Puritan  taint,  than  the  parents,  especially  as  they  were 
zealously  guarded  against  evil  influences;  and  when  Mr. 
Randolph  Fullerton,  purser  in  the  United  States  Navy,  one 
evening  undertook  to  go  on  board  the  United  States  brig 
Gruineahen,  then  lying  at  Port  Mahon,  in  the  Mediterranean, 
with  more  bottles  of  wine  under  his  uniform  than  exactly 
conformed  to  the  navy  regulations,  and  fell  overboard  from 
the  boat  and  was  drowned. — his  widow,  even  in  the  midst  of 
her  grief,  did  not  forget  the  obligations  due  to  herself  as  a 
Southern  lady,  and  had  always  since  kept  up  that  broad  line 
of  demarcation  which  should  exist  between  those  who  are 
sound  on  the  Southern  institution  ami  those  who  have  any 
disposition  to  waver.  The  money  upon  which  the  stylo 
of  the  house  on  Twenty-third  street  (not  at  all  diminished 
since  the  death  of  her  husband)  had  been  kept  up.  was  sup- 
posed to  be  derived  from  her  paternal  estates  near  Columbia  ; 
and  we  are  not  at  all  prepared,  at  this  stage  of  the  narration. 
to  say  that  the  popular  belief  on  this  point  erred  in  any 
particular. 

Mrs.  Fullerton,  occupying  a  cushioned  rocking-chair  near 
the  window,  and  rocking  backwards  and  forwards  in  what  we 
may  before  have  designated  as  a  peculiarly  American  fashion, 
was  a  decidedly  pretty  woman,  in  spite  of  advancing  years, 
and  under  the  gaslight  might  well  have  been  taken  to  be  ten 


THE      PAYS      OF      STIODPT.  67 

years  yonnger.  She  had  never  forgotten  the  art  of  so  dis- 
posing herself,  on  chair  or  sofa,  as  to  throw  out  the  best 
points  of  her  tall  ami  well-formed  figure  t<>  the  best  advan- 
tage ;  her  dark  evening-dress,  with  only  one  heavy  gold  chain 
around  her  neck,  and  descending  to  her  watch  and  waist-belt, 
— only  this  too  nmch  in  the  way  of  jewelry,  well  threw  out  a 
Complexion  that  might  have  been  a  shade  too  dark,  if  falsely 
relieved  by  bad  dressing  ;  her  very  dark  eyes  Beemed  to  have 
lost  nothing  of  their  youthful  lighl  ;  and  there  did  not  seem 
to  he  one  thread  of  silver  in  the  dark  hair,  with  its  slight 
wave,  drawn  back  from  her  proud  forehead,  and  tastefully 
disposed  above  the  small  (airs  and  under  a  head-dress  which 
seemed  to  be  a  marvelous  combination  of  her  own  hair,  vel- 
vet, and  alternate  beads  of  pearl  and  jet.  She  had  a  proud 
]ip — no  one  could  deny  it — a  little  full  and  pouting-,  but 
wonderfully  well-shaped  ;  her  nose  was  almost  classical  in 
the  fineness  of  its  outline  ;  and  the  whole  result  was,  as  We 
have  before  indicated,  that  she  looked  much  younger  than  her 
actual  age,  and  a  decidedly  pretty  woman. 

Place,  aux  dames — all  of  them — here  as  well  as  elsewhere; 
and  the  next  sketch  of  the  group  must  be  that  of  Miss  Eudora 
Fullerton,  usually  denominated  Dora,  the  eldest  unmarried 
daughter  of  the  hostess.  It  needed  almost  a  second  look  on 
the  part  of  the  person  first  introduced  to  the  two — to  believe 
that  they  could  be  mother  and  daughter;  so  different  seemed 
to  be  the  style  of  their  faces  in  almost  every  particular.  And 
yet,  strangely  enough,  after  that  second  look,  no  one  could 
doubt  the  relationship,  even  if  previous  information  left  the 
matter  an  open  question.  There  was  an  indescribable  some- 
thing, no  one  could  say  precisely  what,  common  to  both, 
which  only  needed  observation  to  develope  itself.  Was  it  in 
the  eyes  ? — yes,  perhaps  so;  for  Dora  Fullerton,  though  she 
had  inherited  her  father's  light-brown  hair,  and  was  really  a 
blonde  in  that  particular,  had  taken  her  mother's  dark  eyes — 
eyes  dark  enough  to  be  counted  as  black,  at  a  little  distance  ; 
and  the  combination  of  dark  eyes  and  fair  hair,  was  that 
singularly  effective  one,  so  much  prized  in  some  of  the 
Southern  countries  of  Europe,  and  sometimes  seen,  here, 
when  Mrs.  Thalia  Wood  takes  a  fancy  to  put  away  her  own 


98  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

dark  hair  and  appear  in  the  characteristic  wig  of  the  "Fair 
One  with  the  GoMen  Locks 

As  to  the  other  features  of  her  face — the  young  lady  had  a 
singularly  bold  and  prominent  forehead,  a  little  too  high  and 
a  little  too  full,  the  intellectual  evidently  predominating  <>v<  p 
the  feeling  and  passional  (which  some  of  us  do  not  hold  to  be 
"an  excellent  thing  in  woman") j  the  no3e  was  sharp  cut, 
clear,  handsome  and  decided,  without  a  Fault  in  its  outline, 
but  perhaps  a  shade  too  high  from  the  face  at  the  base;  tin1 
cheeks  were  handsomely  moulded,  and  with  a  suspicion  of  a 
dimple  at  times  in  each,  but  too  thin  for  perfection  ;  and  the 
complexion  was  that  blending  between  brown  and  fair,  which 
seems  to  combine  the  charms  of  both  and  leave  nothing  to 
be  desired.  The  bust  was  very  full  and  mature,  for  her  age 
(less  than  eighteen)  and  for  the  supple  slightness  of  arm  and 
shoulder ;  and  it  was  evident  that  when  standing  she  would 
be  taller  than  the  middle  height,  and  a  most  proud  and 
queenly  (not  to  say  defiant-looking)  figure.  Nothing  has  as 
yet  been  said  of  the  lower  features  of  the  face,  because  here 
admiration  ceases,  and  the  gazer,  half  spell-bound  in  admira- 
tion, shakes  off  the  influence  and  becomes  unpleasantly  free 
again.  All  the  lower  portion  of  Dora  Fullerton's  face  was 
too  thin  and  insignificant  for  the  upper.  The  cheeks  fell  in 
too  fast,  and  actually  hollowed  below  the  level  of  the  nose  ; 
the  mouth  was  too  small,  the  lips  too  thin,  proud,  and  hard, 
with  indications  in  a  droop  at  the  corners,  that  they  might 
easily  be  sullen  and  petulant ;  and  the  chin  was  small,  sharp 
and  weak — the  very  worst  index  of  character  presented  in 
the  whole  catalogue.  A  pretty  girl,  certainly,  and  a  stately 
figure  in  parlor  or  ball-room,  and  yet  one  at  whom  the  close 
observer  might  be  disposed  to  look  more  than  twice  before 
putting  the  happiness  of  a  life-time  into  her  keeping.  It 
should  have  been  said,  before  this  time,  that  the  young  lady 
wore  a  light  stuff  evening-dress,  with  ear-rings  and  a  fair 
lay  of  jewelry,  the  picture  being  thus  concluded. 
And  even  this  long  description  must  be  followed  by 
another — that  of  the  third  person  of  the  group  on  that  Sun- 
day evening.  And  here  the  apology  of  the  old  French  royal- 
ist again  comes  into  play  ;  for  as  he  could  only  have  his  head 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  69 

cut  off,  and  make  the  bother  appertaining  to  that  operation, 
once, — let  it  be  remembered  that  these  people  will  never  need 
a  second  photographing.  Beside  Miss  Dora,  who  was  loung- 
ing en  the  sofa  under  the  full  light  of  two  or  three  of  tho 
burners  of  the  chandelier — sat  a  gentleman  on  that  occasion. 
A  man  of  perhaps  twenty-five  years  of  age,  tall  and  rathei 
slight  in  figure,  dressed  in  dark  clothes  in  the  very  extreme 
Of  the  mode,  with  a  head  of  very  light  brown  curling  hair, 
side-whiskers  long  and  pendant  after  the  Dundreary  pattern, 
blue  eyes,  well-cut  features,  except  a  slight  snub  in  the  nose, 
and  a  face  that  might  have  been  good-looking  enough,  and 
even  handsome,  if  relieved  of  an  expression  of  lazy,  smiling 
inanity,  very  nearly  approaching  to  idiocy  in  appearance, 
ll's  cellar  was  garotte  to  an  extreme,  though  that  fashion 
was  only  then  being  introduced  ;  the  diamond  ring  on  his 
right  little  finger  would  have  furnished  the  stock  in  trade  for 
a  jeweller  of  moderate  capital  ;  the  cornelian  seal  ring  on  his 
left  was  nearly  large  enough  for  stamping  an  official  docu- 
ment, and  must  have  made  sad  havoc  with  his  innumerable 
pairs  of  gloves  from  Bajeux  and  Courvoisier  ;  and  his  patent- 
leather  boots,  which  he  generally  extended  at  full  length 
when  sitting,  could  only  be  matched  in  the  magnificence  of 
their  polish  by  his  extensive  and  immaculate  wristbands,  that 
only  needed  to  be  ruffled  to  excite  the  envy  of  the  departed 
spirit  of  some  beau  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  Second,  or  roue 
of  the  Regency  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans. 

This  person  was  known  as  Edward  Minthorne,  Esq.,  the 
name  being  taken  from  the  innumerable  invitations  to  balls, 
parties,  suppers,  conversaziones,  opera-parties,  etc.,  which 
continually  reached  him  in  the  season  ;  or  from  the  covers 
of  the  perfumed  billets,  boxes,  hampers,  and  other  packages, 
which  at  short  intervals  came  to  him  while  lounging  away 
the  warm  season  at  Newport  or  Saratoga.  There  were  some 
persons  who  called  him  Xed  Minthorne  ;  but  they  were  peo- 
ple of  quality  and  condition,  and  could  do  bold  things  ;  for 
Mr.  Minthorne  was  known  to  be  the  last  heir  and  representa- 
tive of  one  of  the  richest  patroon  families  of  New  York  City, 
worth  a  million  in  his  own  right,  with  nobody  able  to  say 
how  many  more  millions  might  come  to  him  at  the  death  of 


70  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

various  relatives  who  must  drop  off  out  of  his  way  in  due 
season.  He  was  a  fool,  of  course — had  never  been  known  to 
utter  ten  words  that  could  be  construed  into  strong  common 
sense — had  never  done  any  thing,  except  eat,  drink,  ride, 
sm«»ke  and  dawdle — and  appeared  to  be  about  as  capable  of 
taking  care  of  himself,  if  placed  in  circumstances  of  want  or 
difficulty,  as  a  kitteu  of  ten  days  old.  But  then,  what  occa- 
sion had  he  to  take  care  of  himself?  Was  he  not  rich  enough 
for  ten  men  ?  And  what  vicissitude  could  possibly  fall  upon 
his  lauded  property  up  the  river  or  his  houses  and  stores  in 
the  city,  leaving  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  world  ?  Xone  what- 
ever ;  and  the  good  people  of  the  set  in  which  he  moved, 
especially  the  marriageable  young  ladies  and  the  prudent  mam- 
mas and  guardians  who  managed  them,  petted  and  idolized 
him  as  if  he  had  been  a  young  demi-god. 

All  but  one,  that  is  to  say  ;  and  the  exception  was  just 
then  very  near  him.  For  more  than  a  year  before  the  period 
of  this  story  he  had  been  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  house  of  Mrs. 
Fullerton  ;  and  for  more  than  six  months  all  the  other  mar- 
riageable ladies  had  virtually  given  him  up  as  beyond  their 
reach,  he  being  understood  to  be  under  a  tacit  if  not  an  ex- 
plicit engagement  to  marry  Miss  Dora  Fullerton.  She  did 
not  treat  him  with  studied  respect — not  even  with  common 
civility,  at  times.  Was  he  not  "hooked,"  to  use  a  vulgar, 
but  very  expressive  word  ?  Could  she  not  hold  him,  no  mat- 
ter what  was  her  line  of  conduct  ?  She  rather  thought  she 
could  !  She  had  brains — he  had  none  :  what  hope  could 
there  be  for  a  man  placed  at  that  disadvantage,  crawling  out 
from  under  the  moral  thumb  of  a  pretty  and  attractive  wo- 
man, no  matter  whether  she  treated  him  with  marked  respect 
or  the  very  opposite  ?  Xot  that  she  dreamed  of  openly  in- 
sulting him — of  course  not.  That  would  have  been  ruin  to 
her  hopes  ;  for  even  fools  sometimes  know  when  they  are 
kicked,  though  they  may  be  oblivious  when  a  large  pin  is 
thrust  into  them.  And  all  her  "hopes1'  lay  in  the  wealth  of 
Minthorne,  once  in  possession  of  which  she  would  ride  over 
the  world  at  her  leisure.  She  had  been  taught  by  her  mother — - 
and  in  fact  needed  little  teaching  to  that  end, — that  it  was  not 
a  matter  of  the  slightest  consequence  whether  she  loved  or 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  71 

even  respected  the  man  wh  mi  she  expected  to  marry;  that 
every  man  and  every  thing  born  or  made  north  of  Mason  and 
Dixon's  line  was  of  course  wretched,  plebeian  and  contemp- 
tible ;  but  that,  with  a  sufficient  quantity  of  gilding,  even 
one  of  these  poor  wretches  could  be  matrimonially  swallowed. 
She  had  determined  to  swallow  Minthorne,  as  the  richest 
morsel  (pecuniarily)  that  had  yet  come  within  her  grasp,  or 
could  be  likely  to  do  so,  unless  she  went  to  Europe  (a  step, 
for  certain  reasons,  not  practicable)  or  unless  one.  of  the  fa- 
vorite aspirations  of  certain  people  on  this  continent  should 
be  carried  out,  and  an  order  of  nobility  created  for  her  to 
pick,  at  her  own  sweet  will,  among  the  dukes,  marquises  and 
earls  thus  scattered  over  the  laud.  She  had  determined  to 
swallow  him,  but  not  gingerly,  or  with  any  indication  that 
site  was  the  obliged  party  in  the  engagement.  On  the  con- 
trary he  must  be  made  to  know  and  feel  his  place  continually 
. — to  come  at  her  will  and  go  when  she  pleased  ;  and  to  do 
the  young  lady  justice,  there  really  was  every  appearance 
that  she  had  made  an  accurate  calculation.  Ned  Minthorne 
made  no  "  scenes''  and  no  harsh  remarks  whatever,  when  he 
came  to  fulfil  an  engagement  to  drive  her  out,  and  found  her 
just  stepping  into  the  carriage  of  one  of  his  rivals.  He 
never  sulked,  when  he  came  in  to  spend  an  evening  and  found 
his  inamorata  enjoying  a  fit  of  sullenness  which  she  called 
"headache,"  and  paying  him  no  more  attention  than  she 
might  have  done  to  a  dog  whose  place  was  at  her  feet.  He 
never  presumed  to  argue  with  her  at  any  length  or  with  the 
least  ill-feeling,  when  her  ultra-southern  sentiments  came  out 
in  their  full  strength  and  she  took  the  notion  into  her  head  to 
denounce  every  Northern  man,  without  a  single  exception, 
as  a  poor,  white-livered,  thin-blooded  milksop,  not  fit  for  the 
wiping  of  the  shoes  of  a  real  Southern  lady.  While  the 
secession  had  been  going  on,  he  had  borne  with  all  this  and 
as  much  more  as  she  chose  to  heap  upon  the  North,  including, 
of  course,  her  declarations  that  the  Southern  rebels  were 
patriots,  the  Northern  loyalists  all  brutes  and  would-be  tyrants, 
and  the  idea  of  ever  getting  back  the  seceded  States  into  the 
Union,  something  to  be  laughed  at,  loathed  and  spat  upon. 
At  the  moment  when  our  observation  falls  upon  them,  Miss 


72  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

Dora  had  just  subjected  her  devoted  slave  to  one  of  those 
tasks  which  seem  to  have  been  devised  by  the  malignant  fates 
for  the  special  torment  of  impatient  mortality.  She  had  s«-t 
him,  with  a  very  stylish  but  signally  inconvenient  paper- 
folder,  to  cutting  the  leaves  of  a  book  of  several  hundred 
pages,  and  insisted  upon  having  them  all  cut  before  she 
deigned  to  look  at  one  of  them,  while  she  would  certainly 
look  at  not  more  than  two  or  three  before  she  would  throw  it 
down  in  disgust.  (Let  us  put  in  another  parenthesis  here, 
to  say  that  the  man  who  first  practised  the  enormity  of  send- 
ing out  a  bound  book  with  the  leaves  uncut,  should  have 
been  compelled  to  cut  book-leaves  with  a  lead-pencil  or  a 
pair  of  scissors,  during  the  whole  remainder  of  his  existence, 
in  which  case  he  would  perhaps  have  suffered  a  punishment 
somewhat  commensurate  with  the  injury  he  has  inflicted  upon 
humanity.)  The  leaves  of  this  particular  book  were  thin  and 
limp.  Ned  Minthorne's  fingers  were  not  the  nimblest  in  the 
world,  and  he  was  making  a  decidedly  slow  job  of  it,  while 
the  beauty  sat  idle  upon  the  sofa,  and  pouted  and  "  poohed" 
and  patted  her  foot  upon  the  carpet  in  the  most  violent 
dissatisfaction  at  his  slow  proceedings.  At  last  she  broke 
out : 

"  Well,  slow-motion,  how  much  longer  are  you  going  to  be 
before  you  allow  me  to  read  a  word  ?" 

11  Really,  Miss  Fullerton,  I  can't  say — that  is — yes  I  can, 
in  a  minute."  And  the  millionaire,  while  the  young  lady 
was  so  stupefied  with  anger  that  she  could  only  stare  at  him 
in  surprise,  actually  laid  down  his  folder,  counted  the  number 
of  leaves  he  had  cut,  and  the  number  yet  remaining  to  be  ex- 
perimented upon,  drew  out  his  watch  and  made  a  calculation 
in  the  rule  of  three,  that  if  he  had  been  so  many  minutes 
cutting  a  certain  number  (about  one-sixth),  he  would  be  able 
to  complete  the  task  in  about  such  a  period. 

"  You  are  a  fool  1"  exclaimed  the  young  lady  at  this  junc- 
ture ;  and  the  unfortunate  book,  which  had  been  temporarily 
laid  upon  her  lap,  found  itself  flying  across  the  room  with 
singular  rapidity,  and  going  plump  into  the  bosom  of  a  very 
decollete  lady  represented  in  an  engraving  on  the  opposite 
wall. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  73 

"Really,  Dora "was  all  the  expostulation  the  young 

man  was  able  to  utter,  for  the  divinity  eut  him  short  with: — 

"  Don't  talk  to  me!  You  arc  the  most  provoking  man  in 
the  world,  and  you  are  never  satisfied  half  so  well  as  when 
you  can  put  mo  out  of  temper  and  get  mo  to  make  a  fool  of 
myself!"  It  is  just  possible  that  the  spectre  of  a  lost  million 
or  more  had  loomed  up  the  instant  after  she  committed  the 
unladylike  action,  and  that  she  felt  the  necessity  of  calling 
herself  a  fool  in  order  to  balance  the  account  of  having  desig- 
nated him  in  the  same  manner  the  moment  before. 

But  she  need  not  have  given  herself  any  trouble  on  that 
account,  for  the  stupid  placidity  of  Mr.  Minthorne's  temper 
did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  least  disturbed.  He  merely  looked 
at  the  Southern  girl  as  she  bounced  up  from  the  sofa  and 
then  sat  down  again,  and  remarked,  in  the  most  matter-of- 
fact  manner  possible  : — 

"  Well — ah — yes,  1  believe  that  I  do  like  to  see  you  a  little 
out  of  temper,  Miss  Fullerton,  better  than  when  you  are  in  a 
good  humor,  because  then  you  are  so  detuned  piquant  and 
pretty,  you  know  !'' 

"  Do  you  really  think  me  pretty  V  asked  the  young  lady, 
her  face  all  smiles  again  in  a  moment,  and  her  narrow  mind 
(so  sadly  belying  that  full  forehead)  always  caught  by  com- 
pliments to  her  personal  attractions.  She  was  so  gracious, 
now,  that  her  hand  managed  to  drop  upon  if  not  into  that  of 
Minthorne;  and  Mrs.  Fullerton,  who  had  heard  and  seen  all 
the  preceding  from  her  place  in  the  easy  chair,  and  thought 
for  the  moment  that  her  dear  Dora  might  be  playing  the  game 
of  temper  and  superiority  a  little  too  far, — felt  completely 
reassured  and  dropped  back  to  her  rocking  with  a  sweet 
motherly  confidence  that  her  darling  was  doing  honor  to  her 
training  and  managing  her  future  husband  with  much  ad- 
dress. 

But  calms  are  sometimes  short  and  treacherous,  especially 
in  the  tropics,  and  the  worst  of  squalls  follow  them,  habitually. 
Mr.  Ned  Minthorne,  putting  his  hand  into  the  skirt-pocket 
of  his  coat  to  extricate  his  handkerchief  and  fill  a  little  heavy 
time  by  dabbing  its  perfumery  to  his  nose,  accidentally  drew 
out  a  newspaper,  which  fell  upon  the  carpet.     He  reached 


74  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

down  to  pick  it  up  and  return  it  to  its  position,  but  Miss 
Dora  took  it  (not  to  say  jerked  it)  from  bis  band,  opened  it.  and 
nsation  headings  of  one  of  the  daily  Sunday  paper?  Btood 
revealed,  prominent  among  them  the  "Dastardly  Outrag 
the  American  Flag!"  "No  Terms  to  be  Hereafter  Kept 
with  the  Rebels  !"  etc.,  a  statement  that  the  Cabinet  were  in 
session  at  Washington  and  that  a  large  body  of  volunteers 
would  be  called  out  to  put  down  the  rebellion,  flanking  the 
account  of  the  Sumter  outrage  in  another  column.  Instantly 
the  face  of  the  young  lady  tired  up,  her  black  eyes  darted  cruel 
lightnings,  her  whole  frame  seemed  to  be  quivering  with  in- 
dignation, and  she  broke  out,  dashing  down  her  hand  upon 
the  paper : — 

"You  dare,  sir,  to  bring  such  a  paper  as  that  into  this 
house !" 

For  just  one  instant  there  was  a  curious  expression  on  the" 
face  of  Xed  Mint  home.  A  person  who  had  seen  it  and  who 
did  not  know  what  an  absolute  ninny  the  young  man  was, 
would  have  believed  it  to  be  keen,  searching  and  self-confi- 
dent. Of  course  any  person  who  had  seen  it  and  who  did  know 
him,  could  only  have  supposed  that  he  had  been  mistaken. 
At  all  events,  if  there  had  been  any  thing  more  than  usual,  it 
was  gone  in  an  instant,  and  the  face  was  just  as  placidly 
stupid  as  ever.  He  merely  replied  in  a  tone  of  very  great 
surprise : — 

"  Why— that  paper  ?     That  is  only  the- !" 

"  Only  the P  almost  yelled  the  young  lady,  tearing  the 

paper  to  atoms  meanwhile  and  dashing  down  the  pieces  on 

the  carpet.      "Only  the !     And  what  more  could  it  be,  I 

should  like  to  know  !  A  nasty  black  abolition  paper,  trying 
to  stir  up  our  slaves,"  ("our?'  was  good,  in  that  connection) 
"  to  murder  us  in  our  beds  !  I  would  not  have  believed  it  of 
you,  Mr.  Minthorne !  Would  you,  mother!  Oh!  oh!  oh!'' 
and  either  overcome  by  her  emotions  or  thinking  that  tears 
ought  to  make  their  appearance  at  about  that  period,  for  the 
effectiveness  of  the  tableau, — she  fell  back  upon  the  sofa  and 
sobbed,  with  her  face  hidden  by  both  her  handsome  white 
hands. 

Ned   Minthorne  was   affected.      If    Dora   Fullerton    was 


THE      DAYS      OF      S  II  O  D  D  Y.  i  O 

cbartning  when  angry,  she  was  overpowering  when  in  tears  ; 
and  the  young  man  had  proceeded  so  fat  as  to  put  both  his 
hands  on  one  of  the  young  lady's,  and  endeavor  to  remove  it 
from  her  face,  wilh  a  few  endearing  words,  when  Mrs. 
-Fullerton,  who  had  likewise  been  Watching  this  scene  in  the 
drama  of  courtship,  thought  it  politic  to  interpose. 

"  Mr.  Minthofne,"  she  said,  rising  so  suddenly  from  her 
chair  that  the  young  man  did  not  see  her  until  her  stalely 
form  loomed  immediately  before  him.  "  Mr.  Miuthorne,  I 
really  feel  it  to  be  necessary,  in  this  instance,  to  interpose  the 
authority  of  a  mother.  Whether  you  have  intended  to  do  so 
or  not,  this  is  twice  already,  within  a  few  minutes,  that  you 
have  managed  to  excite  my  daughter  in  a  manner  very  pain- 
ful to  me  as  well  as  to  herself." 

"But,  madam — "  began  the  offender. 

11  I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  finish,"  said  the  stately  woman, 
while  Miss  Dora  still  kept  her  hands  over  her  face,  displaying 
not  only  the  hands  but  the  rings  to  excellent  advantage. 
"  You  should  have  known,  sir,  that  the  wrongs  and  outrages 
suffered  by  the  South  have  made  a  great  impression  upon 
us  /" 

"You  allude  to  the — the  whipping  of  the  slaves,  setting 
blood-hounds  on  them,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — pshaw  ! 
that  is  the  other  side  !  You  mean  the — the — "  and  here  he 
broke  down.  Had  any  man,  not  an  acknowledged  ninny, 
dared  to  hint  at  the  things  conveyed  in  the  early  part  of  that 
sentence,  in  the  house  of  Mrs.  Fullerton,  perhaps  not  even 
the  recollection  of  several  millions  at  stake  could  have  pre- 
vented her  ejecting  the  offender  with  ignominy.  But  Miu- 
thorne was  such  a  fool,  and  he  had  so  evidently  blundered, 
that  she  did  not  think  it  either  necessary  or  politic  to  pay 
any  attention  to  the  remark  ;  and  she  merely  went  on : 

MYe  have  been  brought  up,  Mr.  Minthorne,  both  of  us, 
among  a  society  and  in  a  section  of  country  where  high  and 
chivalrous  feeling  has  some  regard  paid  to  it.  You  are  some- 
what excusable  if  you  have  not  been  surrounded  by  the  same 
influences  ;  but  I  ask  it  of  you,  as  a  mother  who  has  the 
welfare  of  her  daughter  very  much  at  heart,  that  at  this 
moment  when   the  miserable  hounds  here  at  the  North  are 


76  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

heaping  still  worse  insults  upon  our .  dear  down-trodden 
South,  yon  will  not  introduce  into  this  house  anv  thing 
calculated    to    injure    our  patriotic    feelings,  and    especially 

those  of  my  daughter,  who  is  very  sensitive  and  not  a  bit 
strong.1' 

There  was  only  one  thing  that  Ned  Minthorne  could  possi- 
bly say  at  that  stage  of  the  peroration,  and  he  said  it. 

"  No,  madam." 

At  which  gentlemanly  promise,  and  a  BUfficient  time  having 
elapsed  to  make  that  measure  proper,  the  hands  of  the  young 
lady  came  gradually  down  from  her  face,  and  her  tears  ceased, 
though  there  was  an  occasional  catch  in  her  breath,  bearing 
the  same  relation  to  a  sob  that  is  borne  to  a  hurricane  by  a 
gentle  spring  zephyr. 

"As   for  that  thing.''1  and  the  dignified  lady  touched  the 

■ with  her  foot  as  it  lay  upon  the  floor — ''it  has  always 

been  a  lying,  deceitful,  abominable  abolition  sheet,  hounding 
on  Sumner  and  Greeley,  and  doing  every  thing  it  could  to 
trample  upon  every  Southern  institution  and  every  Southern 
feeling  !"' 

When  it  is  known  that  the  sheet  alluded  to  had  never  up 
to  that  time,  and  has  never  since,  referred  to  either  of  the 
agitators  named,  without  abusing  them — that  it  had  been  up- 
holding and  defending  the  Southern  side  of  the  national 
question,  during  all  the  difficulty,  so  continually  that  its 
loyalty  to  the  Union  was  more  than  doubtful — and  that  not 
many  days  after  the  time  treated  of,  its  editor  and  proprietor 
was  obliged  to  throw  out  the  flag  from  his"  windows,  under 
the  threat  of  having  his  building  torn  down  and  being  himself 
taken  out  and  hung, — the  justice  of  Mrs.  Fullerton's  adjec- 
tives may  be  estimated,  and  some  calculation  may  be  formed 
of  what  description  of  Northern  sheet  it  would  have  needed 
to  be,  that  she  did  not  designate  as  "  lying,  black  abolition." 

"  There — there,  mother,  go  back  to  your  seat  and  don't  say 
any  thing  more  about  it  !"  said  the  gentle  and  impulsive  Miss 
Dora,  who  probably  felt  well  assured  that  her  lover  could  not 
answer  her  mother's  tirade  if  he  would,  and  who  had  by  this 
time  enjoyed  quite  enough  of  the  peculiar  sensation  of  the 
quarrel,  to  be  anxious  for  another  novelty.     Her  mother  was 


T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  17 

about  obeying  the  gentle  behest,  and  the  white  hand  would 
in  another  moment  have  fallen  again  on  that  of  Minthorne, 
BeaKng  a  full  reconciliation, — when  there  was  a  ring  at  the 
bell,  a  foot  heard  ascending  the  oaken  stairs,  and  the  moment 
after  Mr.  Charles  Holt,  merchant,  entered  the  room. 

Each  of  the  persons  previously  there  rose  to  meet  him  and 
shake  his  hand,  establishing  the  fact  that  he  was  an  intimate 
acquaintance.  Bnt  in  his  salutation  of  "  Mother!"  to  one  of 
Ihe  ladies  and  his  familiar  mode  of  saying  "  Dora  !"  to  the 
Other,  something  more  was  revealed.  The  merchant  was  a 
son-in-law  of  the  handsome  hostess  of  the  Southern  proclivi- 
ties ;  and  a  sister  of  the  impulsive  young  lady  on  the  sofa 
presided,  or  had  presided,  over  his  house  and  heart.  Whether 
from  his  family  connection,  or  from  some  other  cause,  he  did 
not  seem  to  be  at  all  in  awe  of  these  terrible  people  ;  and  a 
closer  observer  than  Xed  Minthorne  appeared  to  be,  would 
have  seen  that  something  very  like  forced  deference,  un- 
accountable in  the  descendants  of  the  chivalry  of  the  South, 
towards  a  man  who  had  not  a  drop  of  Southern  blood  in  his 
veins  and  who  was  a  mere  merchant,  was  actually  paid  to 
him. 

"  Torn  papers  on  the  floor  !"  he  said,  after  the  greetings 
were  over.     "  What  does  that  mean  ?     Eh,  Dora  ?" 

The  young  lady  colored  as  if  she  had  before  been  known 
to  tear  papers  (and  other  things),  and  as  if  that  phase 
of  her  disposition  was  no  novelty  to  her  brother-in-law. 
"  Only  an  old  paper,"  she  stammered  out  after  a  moment, 
"that  I — that  has  not  been  picked  up." 

"Not  very  old — only  this  morning,"  commented  Holt, 
stooping  down,  picking  up  a  portion  of  the  torn  paper,  look- 
ing at  the  date,  and  then  throwing  it  down  again.  "  However, 
one  day  is  an  age  now-a-days.  Of  course,  you  saw  what  it 
contained  ?" 

The  inquiry  seemed  to  be  addressed  to  both  mother  and 
daughter.  Neither  answered,  and  Minthorne  looked  as  if  he 
bad  sense  enough  to  feel  for  both  and  to  be  uncomfortable. 
Holt  went  on  : 

"  I  did  not  allude  to  the  Sumter  business — that  you  saw- 
last  night, — but  to  the  statement  that  the  Cabinet  had  been 


73  THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

n7l  night  in  session  ;  that  active  measures  had  been  decided 
upon,  and  that  there  will  probably  be  a  call  for  troop 

m<  PPOW,  over  the  whole  eountr 

Strangely  enough,  neither  Miss  Dora  nor  her  mother,  who 
had  been  so  outraged  at  the  very  sight  of  the  heading-lines 
conveyingthe  intelligence  of  that  proclamation,  a  few  moments 
bt»f  re, — went  into  tears  or  raved  ever  the  insults  offered  to 
the  South,  now!  What  a  mysteriously  calming  if  not  de- 
pressing influence  the  merchant  seemed  to  exercise,  the  mo- 
ment he  entered  the  room  !  AYas  it  merely  the  iron  will  of  a 
hard  man  of  the  world,  radiating  out  and  affecting  insensibly 
all  whom  he  approached,  or  was  it  something  more  ? 

"  There  is  a  devil  of  a  row  1  ire  wing,"  he  continued,  meet- 
ing no  answer.  "  They  will  need  fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand 
men,Jafid  that  is  no  small  army.  I  wonder  whether  they  can 
all  he  raised  immediately  ?" 

"  If  they  are,  the  whole  fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand  ought 
to  he  hanged  before  they  had  marched  one  mile  !''  broke  out 
Mrs.  Fullerton,  who  could  endure  the  restraint  no  longer. 
"And  the  man  who  would  help  to  raise  one  of  them — " 

"As  /shall  do,"  interrupted  the  merchant  "  Well  ? — the 
man  who  would  help  to  raise  one  of  them,  ought  to  be — " 

"  Bah  !"  was  the  singular  word  with  which  the  dignified 
lady  concluded  the  sentence  which  had  threatened  to  end  in 
such  a  wholesale  denunciation. 

"  Come  here,  Dora  !"  said  the  merchant,  in  a  tone  very  like 
one  of  command,  walking  towards  one  of  the  front  windows 
at  the  same  moment.  The  young  lady  obeyed,  while  Mrs. 
Fullerton  rose  from  her  chair  near  the  other  one,  and  left  the 
room,  as  if  to  avoid  hearing  what  was  to  be  said,  and  Min- 
thorne,  who  had  walked  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  room 
and  picked  up  the  unfortunate  book,  sat  dowm  again  upon  the 
sofa,  and  busied  himself  with  it,  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
felt  that  for  the  moment  he  was  very  much  in  the  way,  with 
a  very  dull  prospect  of  escape. 

"  Tut  that  in  your  pocket,"  said  the  merchant,  handing 
Dora  a  very  small  package,  when  they  were  at  the  window 
and  out  of  ear-shot  of  the  millionaire.  "  Of  course  you  do 
not  want  to  have  him  see  you  receive  it?" 


TTTE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  79 

"  Xo  !  no  !"  answered  the  young  lady,  in  a  low  voice  that 
had  in  it  something  approaching  shame  and  agony. 

14 1  thought  not!"  said  the  merchant,,  his  tone  something 
that  might,  under  Other  circumstances,  have  seemed  a  sneer. 
"  What  the  deuce  is  that  noise  tn 

'•Oh,''  answered  Miss  Dora,  "only  Myra  and  Mildred, 
squabbling,  as  usual,  in  the  room  above.  They  think  they 
are  obliged  to  go  to  bed  too  early,  and  they  are  almost  un- 
manageable, altogether," 

'•  Singular  !"  said  Holt,  in  a  tone  that  convoyed  his  impres- 
sion of  the  fact  not  being  singular  at  all. 

"  They  will  make  less  noise  in  a  day  or  two,  or  they  will 
probably  get  killed,"  replied  the  affectionate  sister.  "We 
have  just  been  employing-  a  new  governess,  somebody  named 
Kaviland,  from  the  country;  and  we  hired  her  because  she 
had  been  a  country  school-mistress,  used  to  flogging  children. 
When  she  comes,  if  she  doesn't  keep  those  young  wretches  in 
order,  out  she  goes,  and  that  in  a  week." 

"  Right,"  said  the  merchant,  playing  with  the  tassel  of  the 
window-curtain.  "  Make  everybody  obey,  around  you,  or 
out  with  them  !  Haviland,  eh  ?  Oddly  enough,  I  have  a 
clerk  with  the  same  not-very-common  name,  or  had  one,  for 
he  is  going  to  volunteer,  and  ha  !  ha  ! — do  you  remember 
what  your  mother  started  to  say  a  moment  ago  about  'the 
man  who  would  help  to  raise  one  of  them'  ? — I  have  promised 
to  pay  him  his  salary  while  he  is  gone,  and  take  care  of  his 
family." 

"  You  ?" 

"  Yes,  //" 

"  How  much  of  a  family  has  he  ?  and  how  old  is  he  ?'' 

"  What  business  is  that  of  yours  ?"  asked  the  merchant,  not 
over  politely.  Then  he  smoothed  his  tone,  half  laughed,  and 
taswered  : 

"Oh,  he  is  young — twenty-eight  or  thirty;  and  his  family, 
he  say-,  consists  of  a  wife  and  one  child.  Any  thing  else  you 
want  to  know  ?" 

"  Yes — one  thing  more.      Have  you  ever  seen  his  wife?" 

"  Humph — yes — perhaps  so  !"  was  the  answer,  and  at  the 
moment  the  eyes  of  the  two  met;  and  Xcd  Minthorne,  had 


80  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

ho  boon  near  enough  to  the  merchant  and  bia  sister-in-law  to 
see  the  intelligence  conveyed  in  either  glance,  and  keen  enough 
to  road  it,  would  have  found  something  much  more  worthy  of 
his  attention  than  the  dull  book  with  the  half-cut  leaves,  over 
which  ho  was  whiling  away  time  on  the  sofa. 

"  Dare  you  !"  was  the  brief  sentence  that  came  from  the 
lips  of  the  young  lady,  hissing  through  them  with  something 
that  sounded  like  the  venom  of  the  serpent  when  grasped  and 
powerless. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  do  you  not  think  it  may  pay?"  was  the  answer, 
in  a  low,  chuckling  tone,  such  as  one  uses  who  is  thoroughly 
satislied  with  himself  and  the  world.  And  here  the  conver- 
sation ended,  and  the  interlocutors,  with  an  apology  to  Min- 
thorne  from  Holt,  returned  to  the  centre  of  the  room.  Mrs. 
Fullerton  joined  the  circle  in  a  few  moments,  and  the  conver- 
sation fell  upon  other  and  loss  exciting  subjects  than  national 
affairs — those  trifling  topics  in  which  the  mother  and  daughter 
seemed  to  be  perfect — the  merchant  no  novice — and  Ned 
Minthorne,  millionaire  and  fashionable  ninny,  more  at  home 
than  he  could  possibly  be  in  any  other  line  of  conversation. 
Half  an  hour  later  the  merchant  rose  to  leave,  Minthorne 
followed  him,  and  the  silence  and  quiet  of  repose  soon  after- 
wards fell  upon  the  handsome  brown-stone  house  in  East 
Twenty-third  street,  however  far  from  quiet,  during  all  that 
long  night,  were  some  other  sections  of  the  great  city,  seeth- 
ing, bubbling  and  fermenting  beneath  the  yet  only  half- 
digested  news  from  Charleston  harbor,  and  the  added  excite- 
ment of  the  patriotic  but  intemperate  comments  made  upon 
it  in  the  daily  and  Sunday  papers. 


CHAPTER  IY. 
The    Merchant   and  hts   Fifth   Avenue   Residence — A 

GLANCE   AT  UP-TOWN    LUXTJKY — A    MERCANTILE    LETTER — 

A  Dinner  and  a  Summons— An  Interview  a  la  Mode, 
between  Husband  and  WitfE — How  Burtnett  Havi- 
land  Went  Home — The  Romance  of  Half  a  House — 
A  Dear  Little  Wife  that  Waited  at  the  Door — A. 
Supper,  and  the  Shadow  that  fell  over  it. 

We  have  seen  Charles  Holt  and  Burtnett  Haviland,  the 
merchant  and  his  clerk,  leaving  the  store  of  the  former  on 
Saturday  evening,  not  together  by  any  means,  nor  with  the 
same  means  of  conveyance  in  view,  but  each  having  the 
same  apparent  object — to  go  home.  It  will  now  be  neces- 
sary to  roll  back  .the  tide  of  time  for  one  day  and  return  to 
that  evening,  in  order  that  more  may  be  known  of  both  men 
and  their  domestic  relations  as  well  as  their  patriotic  emo- 
tions, and  in  order  that  at  least  a  glance  may  be  caught  at  the 
temple  in  which  the  household  gods  of  each  were  treasured. 
Not  only  in  right  of  his  years  but  his  position,  the  merchant 
is  entitled  to  the  first  place  and  must  be  accorded  it. 

Charles  Holt,  when  he  had  reached  Broadway,  did  not  at 
once  cuter  an  omnibus  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  line,  as  he  had  at 
first  intended.  There  was  yet  light  enough  remaining  to 
make  a  stroll  up  Broadway  pleasant ;  and  he  had  either  not 
been  so  stunned  by  the  news  of  the  national  shame  and  his 
own  prospective  pecuniary  loss,  as  to  be  discouraged  and 
down-hearted,  or  something  else  had  occurred  calculated  to 
overbalance  such  sad  feelings.  He  looked  pleasantly,  even 
smilingly  ;  and  as  he  emerged  a  few  moments  after  from  the 
bar-room  at  Delmonico's  with  a  fresh  Havana  between  his 
lips,  no  one  would  have  believed  him  to  be  a  man  of  position 
and  responsibility,  living  under  the  shadow  of  a  crushing 
national  shame  and  so  fullv  impressed  with  his  own  duty  to 
5  81 


82  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

the  country  as  to  be  willing  to  make  heavy  pecuniary  sacrifices 
to  meet  its  needs.  The  smoke  from  his  cigar  curled  pleas- 
antly upward,  his  foot  rung  clearly  on   the   pavement  as  ho 

lounged  slowly  on,  read  the  signs  once  more  that  he  had  be- 
fore read  ten  thousand  times,  and  looked  in  at  the  windows 

to  see  the  porters  lighting  the  gas-burners  for  the  display  of 
articles  of  use  or  luxury  that  no  one  was  very  likely  to  pur- 
chase on  that  particular  evening.  Occasionally  he  would 
meet  an  acquaintance  not  too  much  absorbed  in  the  sensation 
of  the  hour  to  speak  to  him,  and  then  he  would  exchange 
salutations  and  pass  with  the  most  courtly  ease.  Men  who 
had  chanced  to  know  him  in  youth,  but  who  had  not  risen  so 
fast  in  the  world  as  he  had  done,  would  turn  their  heads  after 
he  had  gone  by,  and  think  what  a  fortunate  as  well  as  eminently 
respectable  man  was  the  head  of  the  great  firm  of  Charles 
Holt  and  Andrews;  and  handsome  women,  of  whom  the 
street  was  not,  yet  entirely  thinned,  would  glance  from  their 
carriages  or  throw  a  pleased  look  after  him  as  they  saw 
him  on  the  side-walk,  thinking  that  he  was  (as  indeed  he  was) 
a  fine-looking  man,  and  that  it  could  be  no  undesirable  thing 
to  hold  the  position  of  head  of  his  household.  Once  he  met 
a  little  boy  with  Union  rosettes,  that  had  been  gradually 
creeping  out  for  some  days,  in  response  and  defiance  to  the 
secession  cockades  known  to  be  flaunted  at  Baltimore,  Wash- 
ington and  all  over  the  South,  and  that  this  evening  seemed 
to  have  sprung  up  in  a  crop  of  red,  white  and  blue  flowers 
that  no  man  could  number.  He  bought  one,  paid  his  silver 
quarter  for  it,  accepted  the  offered  pin  from  the  boy,  pinned 
it  to  the  left  lappel  of  his  coat,  and  passed  on — having  per- 
formed one  more  duty  to  his  country,  at  least — that  of  put- 
ting on  the  national  colors  and  taking  part  in  the  patriotic 
madness  of  the  hour. 

Opposite  St.  Thomas'  Church  the  dusk  began  to  gather, 
his  cigar  was  smoked  out,  and  he  fancied  that  he  had  threaded 
the  jostling  crowd  sufficiently  and  taken  quite  exercise  enough. 
He  hailed  one  of  the  Fifth  Avenue  line  of  stages,  and  stepped 
in.  Thenceforward,  for  half  an  hour,  he  was  absorbed  and 
melted  away  into  that  great  car-and-omnibus-riding  crowd 
which  forms  so  large  a  part  of  New  York  society  every  morn- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  83 

ing  and  evening  ;  and  it  would  have  been  difficult  to  display 
or  even  to  preserve  any  decided   individuality.      With  his 

thoughts  we  have  nothing  to  do,  a?  they  must  show  them- 
selves in  action  ;  and  even  his  sensations  on  being  crushed 
between  a  fat  old  lady  who  sat  on  him  and  a  thin  young  lady 
who  looked  so  pale  and  fragile  that  he  dared  not  make  room 
for  himself  by  sitting  On  /"'/",  must  be  passed  over  as  matters 
of  no  moment.  At  the  cud  of  the  half  hour  he  emerged 
from  the  eclipse  of  the  stage]  ami  walked  quietly  up  the  Bt< ps 
of  his  own  handsome  house  on  Fifth  Avenue,  so  near  to  Dr. 
Spring's  Church  that  the  spire  of  that  building,  had  it  chosen 
to  topple  over,  might  have  done  serious  damage  to  his  roof 
and  the  elaborate  ornamention  of  his  brown-stone  cornices. 

One  of  those  thin  pass-keys  of  the  Butler  pattern,  that 
seem  so  slight  and  yet  tumble  locks  of  such  formidable 
strength,  admitted  him,  and  he  passed  into  the  hall,  where  the 
lamp  was  already  lighted.  The  house  was  a  double  one,  of 
immense  size,  and  within  as  well  as  without  it  told  of  great 
wealth  as  well  as  of  a  taste  managing  that  wealth  somewhat 
more  understandingly  than  is  usual  in  aristocratically-repub- 
lican New  York.  No  bare  floor  or  stairway,  here.  The 
walls  of  the  hall  were  handsomely  frescoed,  Yenus  Aphrodite 
and  the  Triumph  of  Galatea  being  the  subjects  filling  the 
centre  on  either  side  and  bordered  with  heavy  scrolls  of  fruit 
and  flowers  with  their  extreme  edges  just  touched  with  gold. 
All  the  finishing  of  the  hall  and  stairway,  with  the  doors 
opening  on  either  side,  was  in  oak — no  imitation  in  grainers'- 
paint,  but  a  fine  dark,  solid  wood  that  looked  English.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  costly  Indian  matting  that  gave  back 
no  sound  of  the  foot  and  had  not  the  cold  look  of  oil-cloth  ; 
and  the  same  warm  taste  was  visible  in  the  carpeting  of  the 
stairs,  in  the  heavy  velvet  of  which  showed  red  and  gold- 
Color  in  profusion.  The  hall  lamp  was  held  by  a  handsome 
bronze  knight  in  armor,  who  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  Btatr  ; 
and  in  the  niche  of  the  landing,  half  way  up,  was  a  rich 
g<>ld-bronze  reduction  of  Kiss'  famous  Amazon,  its  flash  in 
the  gas-light  coming  distinctly  even  to  the  door. 

So  much  could  be  seen,  of  the  luxury  which  surrounded 
the  merchant,  by  merely  entering  the  hall.     The  visitor  who 


84  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

pet  his  foot  within  the  door  which  opened  to  the  right  a?  lie 
entered,  would  have  found  a  drawing-room  fitted  with  every 
elegance  known  to  the  age — rosewood;  crimson  velvet; 
heavy  English  tapestries;  pictures  by  well-known  modern 
artists,  European  and  American,  with  no  lack  of  the  warmer 
subjects  of  personal  delineation,  and  yet  nothing  to  which  t he 
most  fastidious  prudery  could  object  ;  a  heavy  clock  of  ormolu  ; 
a  piano  of  the  best  German  manufacture  ;  costly  bronzes  <>n 
the  mantels,  representing  various  progressions  of  dress  and 
arms  in  English  history;  books  in  superb  bindings,  scattered 
on  tables  covered  with  heavy  velvets,  and  interspersed  with 
statuettes  in  ivory  and  Parian,  of  different  celebrities  in  the 
musical  world — all  that  wealth  of  costly  adornment  with 
which  so  many  American  mansions  have  within  the  past  ten 
years  become  overloaded,  to  the  serious  depletion  of  the  purses 
of  those  who  indulge  in  them, — and  which  are  almost  as  im- 
pertinent as  tedious  in  the  recital. 

But  if  the  visitor  supposed  that  the  proprietor  of  this  estab- 
lishment had  followed  a  very  common  national  custom,  and 
heaped  up  luxuries  in  his  hall  and  parlors  as  show-rooms,  to 
the  beggaring  of  the  other  details  of  his  house,  that  visitor  was 
very  likely  to  be  undeceived  when  admitted  within  additional 
portions  of  the  penetralia.  Especially  would  he  have  become 
aware  that  Mr.  Charles  Holt,  in  fitting  up  his  superb  man- 
sion, had  not  neglected  himself.  For  no  thicker  was  the 
velvet  carpeting  of  the  room  to  the  right,  than  was  that  of  the 
corresponding  apartment  to  the  left,  which  the  merchant  en- 
tered the  moment  after  he  had  closed  the  outer  door.  "N^o 
thicker  in  texture,  but  much  larger  in  figure;  for  that  of  this 
room,  which  seemed  to  belong  exclusively  to  the  proprietor, 
was  of  grass-green,  cut  into  small  diamonds  by  bars  of  gold- 
color;  while  the  windows  had  close  inner-blinds,  only  thinly 
veiled  by  curtains  of  festooned  lace.  The  furniture  was  in 
oak,  like  the  furnishing  of  the  hall,  and  among  it  could  be  de- 
tected an  escritoire  or  secretary  standing  near  one  of  the 
windows  ;  a  large  book-case  with  the  books  hidden  away  by 
curtains  of  crimson  silk  ;  a  lounging-chair  of  the  Chinese  pat- 
tern— capable  of  being  converted  into  any  thing,  from  a  mere 
stool  to  a  bed  ;  and  a  large  iron  safe,  so  ingeniously  disguised 


t 
T II  E      D  A  Y  S      OF      SHODDY.  85 

in  manufacture  and  grained  to  the  appearance  of  the  universal 
oak,  that  it  seemed  to  be  nothing*  more  than  a  beaufet  to  sus- 
tain a  silver  water-pitcher,  a  liquor  case  with  bottles,  and 
half  a  dozen  silver  goblets  and  Bohemian  glasses.  The  mas- 
ter oi*  all  these  conveniences  had  evidently  been  expected;  for 
a  gas  lamp  with  a  snake  attachment  connected  with  the  chan- 
delier, was  lighted  and  stood  on  a  small  table  very  near  the 
escritoire  and  beside  the  easy-chair.  The  master,  too,  of  all 
these  conveniences,  should  have  been  the  happiest  of  men,  so 
far  as  outward  circumstances  cottld  affect  him,  and  always 
provided,  of  course,  that  his  domestic  surroundings  were 
equally  perfect  and  congenial.  How  nearly  they  were  so, 
Will  be  gradually  but  very  satisfactorily  ascertained. 

The  merchant  had  evidently  not  quite  done  with  the 
thoughts  possessing  him  while  crowded  in  the  stage,  for  he 
threw  himself  into  the  easy-chair  the  moment  he  had  entered 
the  room,  pressed  it  back  until  it  became  half  chair  and  half 
lounge,  and  mused  for  several  minutes  with  his  eyes  shut  and 
in  silence.  Then  he  threw  back  the  chair  to  be  a  chair  alone, 
drew  it  to  the  escritoire,  opened  that  convenience,  drew  out 
paper  and  rapidly  indited  a  letter.  Taking  the  privilege  of 
the  literary  Asmodeus  to  look  over  his  shoulder,  we  may  say 
that  this  letter  was  addressed  to  his  junior  partner,  Mr. 
Beverly  Andrews,  then  in  Europe  on  purchasing-business 
for  the  firm,  and  that  one  portion  of  it  ran  as  follows  : 

"Taking  all  that  has  happened  into  consideration,  there  is  no  question 
•whatever  that  the  country  must  now  fight  or  go  to  pieces.  The  South  is 
weak,  but  ready  ;  we  are  strong,  hut  unprepared.  This  will  make  the  strug- 
gle a  longer  one,  when  it  comes,  than  most  people  suppose;  and  those  who 
are  prepared,  can  make  more  money  out  of  it  than  could  be  made  in  ten  times 
the  same  period  of  peace.  We  shall  lose  heavily  by  our  Southern  customers,  and 
Northern  ones  must  repay  the  loss — that  is  all.  We  must  have  a  large  body 
of  soldiers,  and  those  soldiers  must  be  clothed.  All  parties  will  at  first  be 
frightened  at  incurring  enormous  expense,  and  they  will  be  clothed  meanly. 
Buy  up  all  that  you  can  of  very  common  army  cloths,  light  and  dark-blue, 
as  of  course  they  will  retain  the  colors  of  the  regular  service.  Double  our  in- 
tended investment,  also,  in  cotton  goods,  as  cotton  must  rise  under  the  new 

aspect  of  affairs.     You  can  draw  on  Peabody  for  $ ,  in  addition  to  avails 

now  in  his  hands,  for  which  I  will  provide  by  the  current  steamer." 

So  it  will  be  seen  that  Mr.  Charles  Holt  had  a  shrewd  eye 
to  business,  even  if  he  felt  the  national  affliction  to  some  ex- 


86  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

tent,  and  that  he  did  not  intend  to  permit  losses  by  Southern 
customers  seriously  to  impair  the  fortunes  of  the  firm.  Some 
of  his  calculations  were  rather  shrewd — were  they  not  ?  as, 
for  instance,  that  in  first  plunging  into  a  war,  everybody 
would  be  frightened  at  the  coming  expense,  and  try  to  pro- 
ceed as  cheaply  as  possible  ;  while  after  a  time,  and  when  once 
fairly  involved  in  it,  a  hundred  millions  would  seem  no  more 
than  ten  had  seemed  at  the  beginning.  Perhaps  he  had  gam- 
bled a  little,  some  time  in  his  life,  and  seen  how  carefully  the 
player  risked  his  first  small  stakes,  to  become  utterly  reckless, 
after  a  while,  of  risks  that  seemed  to  afford  the  only  prospect 
of  winning  back  what  had  been  already  lost.  If  so,  did  he 
not  develop  some  of  the  qualities  of  a  safe  even  if  a  bold 
player? 

Not  many  minutes  served  to  conclude  the  letter,  which  he 
put  into  an  inner  pocket,  unsealed,  in  view  of  the  possibility 
that  he  might  need  to  add  or  change  something  before  the 
sailing  of  the  steamer  on  Monday.  Then  he  shut  the  escri- 
toire, locked  it.  replaced  the  key  in  his  pocket,  threw  the  easy- 
chair  back  into  precisely  the  same  position  that  it  had  before 
assumed,  and  ruminated  for  at  least  five  minutes  more. 

Lt  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  had  not  heard,  at  any  time 
within  the  past  fifteen  minutes,  sounds  proceeding  from  the 
room  immediatly  above  his  own.  Those  sounds  had  been 
faint,  and  somewhat  muffled  by  the  thick  floor  and  ceiling, 
but  still  easily  distinguishable  as  the  tinkling  of  glasses,  loud 
laughter,  and  occasional  pounding  on  the  floor.  Strange 
sounds  to  come  from  an  upper  room  of  a  gentleman's  house, 
one  would  have  said,  and  especially  strange  when  himself 
had  been  for  the  whole  day  absent  and  had  brought  no  com- 
pany whatever  home  with  him.  Yet  the  merchant  had  not 
seemed  to  heed  them,  though  he  certainly  heard  them,  and 
once  or  twice  made  an  impatient  dash  of  the  pen,  as  if  the 
noise  merely  interfered  with  his  directions  to  his  partner. 
They  had  not  ceased  when  he  finished  the  letter  and  took  his 
second  rumination. 

After  sitting  in  this  manner  for  the  few  minutes  named, 
Mr.  Holt  leaned  back  and  twice  jerked  the  silver  bell-pull 
immediately  behind  him.     The  summons  was  very  quickly 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  87 

answered  by  a  man-servant,  to  whom  the  master  addressed 
one  word  : 

"Dinner?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  ready  whenever  you  wish,  sir  !"  was  the  reply, 
and  the  servant  opened  a  door  leading  from  the  rear  of  the 
apartment  through  a  small  dark  room,  threw  open  a  second 
door,  and  ushered  the  merchant  into  a  handsome  dining-room, 
where  a  table  was  set  sufficient  in  size  for  the  accommodation 
of  at  least  a  dozen,  and  profusely  covered  with  plate,  china 
and  glass,  but  with  only  one  chair  set  before  it  and  with  only 
the  dishes  which  one  person  would  use.  That  single  chair 
the  merchant  occupied,  and  two  minutes  sufficed  for  a  quick- 
moving  and  pretty  female  servant  to  set  before  him  a  dinner 
worthy  of  some  modern  Lucullus.  No  costly  luxury  of 
the  market,  whether  of  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  or  fruit,  failed  to  be 
there  represented;  and  the  neat-handed  servant-girl,  who  had 
evidently  been  subjected  to  some  pretty  severe  training  be- 
fore she  acquired  that  perfection,  understood  him  and  his 
wishes  so  well  that  he  merely  needed  to  make  a  sign,  without 
uttering  a  word,  and  the  demand  was  fulfilled — even  to  the 
pouring  out  of  one  or  another  of  the  different  kinds  of  wine 
with  which  the  solitary  banquet  was  graced.  Solitary,  for 
not  one  word  was  spoken  during  the  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes 
—perhaps  half  an  hour— that  the  merchant  consumed  in  dis- 
cussing it.  A  banquet,  because  food  enough  was  set  before 
him,  and  consequently  prepared  for  waste  in  the  servants' 
hall,  to  have  satisfied  the  hunger  of  twenty  men.  Some  pitier 
of  poverty,  conversant  with  the  want  and  wretchedness  of  a 
great  city,  and  the  thousands  who  drag  around  their  weary 
limbs  and  nightly  crawl  away  to  miserable  beds,  without 
having  had  their  hunger  even  once  partially  appeased, — some 
man  like  this,  who  should  have  stood  beside  Mr.  Charles  Holt, 
on  that  occasion,  might  temporarily  have  had  the  heart-ache, 
spite  of  the  fact  that  the  wealth  which  supplied  the  banquet 
was  truly  enough  the  merchant's  own,  and  that  he  had  an 
undoubted  right,  humanly  speaking,  to  dispose  of  his  own  as 
be  liked.  The  merchant  himself,  it  is  highly  probable,  thought 
of  that  luxurious  dinner  and  of  others  which  preceded  and 
followed   it,   one  day  when  the   table  at   which  he   ate  was 


83  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

not  quite   so   plentifully  spread   and   the  food   not  qu/ 
savory. 

All  things  have  an  end,  and  the  quickest  of  all  thi: 
end  is  an  American  dinner — except  when  Smith,  who  fares 
meanly  at  home  and  never  dines  at  any  place  more  luxurious 
than  a  shilling  restaurant,  finds  himself  transiently  sit' 
one  of  the  bountiful  repasts  spread  for  him  by  Beach  at  the 
Cattskill  .Mountain-House,  or  Anderson  on  the  good  Cham- 
plain  steamer  "United  States."  determines  that  he  will  have 
a  full  meal  for  once  hi  his  life  (seeing  that  the  cost  is  all  the 
same),  and  valiantly  goes  through  with  fish,  flesh  and  fowl, 
entrees  and  entremets,  pies,  puddings,  custards,  jellies,  ice- 
creams, melons  and  peaches,  down  to  the  cheese,  nuts  and 
raisins,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  all  the  other  guests  have  long 
before  left  the  table,  and  that  the  waiters  are  looking  three- 
pronged  forks  at  him  because  they  have  set  him  down  as  "  no 
gentleman,"  and  because  they  are  waiting  to  set  the  table  for 
another  relay  of  hungry  people.  All  other  American  dinners 
but  this  of  Smith,  and  that  of  Brown  when  he  gives  a  hun- 
dred-dollar "blow-out*'  to  four  friends  at  the  Maison  Doree, 
whereat  all  parties  eat  themselves  sick  and  drink  themselves 
blind  and  stupid, — have  an  end.  And  all  this  has  nothing  to 
do  with  Mr.  Charles  Holt,  who  was  a  quick  diner,  and  who, 
if  he  wasted  food  by  having  an  unreasonable  quantity  and 
variety  prepared  for  him,  did  not  gormandize  it. 

His  dinner  ended,  the  merchant  tossed  oil' yet  another  glass 
of  wine  after  he  had  risen,  drew  his  hand  across  his  brow  as 
if  he  was  wiping  away  any  fume  it  might  have  left  in  his 
brain,  lit  a  cigar  that  he  took  from  a  side-pocket,  and  went 
back  to  his  own  apartment.  The  merriment  from  the  room 
above  seemed  yet  to  be  sounding ;  and  immediately  on  enter- 
ing the  room  he  gave  the  bell  the  same  double  pull  as  before. 
The  same  man-servant  entered  at  once,  and  stood  mutely 
within  the  door.  Evidently,  if  he  had  nothing  more  (and 
had  he  not  much  more  ?)  this  man  kept  order  among  his 
servants,  whenever  they  came  into  personal  relation  with 
himself. 

"  Go  up  to  your  mistress,  and  say  that  I  wish  to  see  her, 
here,"  was  the  order,  no  sooner  given  than  obeyed  in  the  dis- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  89 

appearance  of  the  servant.  Perhaps  five  minutes  elapsed, 
while  the  merchant  again  sat  in  his  easy  chair,  but  in  a  much 
more  erect  position  than  before,  and  puffed  silently  on  his 
cigar  that  was  gradually  filling  the  room  with  the  subtle 
ance  of  its  Cuban  birth.  Then  the  door  leading  into  the 
hall  opened,  a  little  suddenly  and  as  if  the  hand  that  impelled 
it  was  trembling  with  temper,  and  a  lady  stepped  into  the 
room  and  closed  it  behind  her.  It  was  worthy  of  notice  that 
the  door  closed  less  violently  than  it  opened,  and  that  the 
Step  which  carried  the  lady  within  the  room  from  the  thresh- 
old was  slower  than  that  with  which  she  had  approached  it, 
and  seemed  like  the  pulling  up  of  a  fast  horse  that  had  been 
under  very  rapid  way.  It  might  have  appeared  as  if  the  at- 
mosphere into  which  she  came,  so  to  speak,  was  heavier  and 
more  dense  than  that  from  which  she  had  emerged,  and  that 
she  could  not  move  quite  so  rapidly  through  it. 

The  words  uttered  to  the  servant  have  indicated  that  this 
lady  was  the  wife  of  Charles  Holt,  and  such  was  the  fact. 
Bearing  this  important  relation  to  the  merchant,  and  also  to 
two  others  who  have  before  been  sketched  in  this  narration,  a 
word  of  description  of  her  is  unavoidable. 

She  might  have  been  twenty-eight  years  of  age,  to  judge 
by  the  whole  contour  of  face,  figure  and  carriage,  though 
there  were  various  points  in  her  appearance,  each  of  which 
would  have  varied  the  estimate  if  taken  by  itself.  Her 
figure  was  tall,  exquisitely  rounded,  and  even  the  least  in  the 
world  inclining  to  embonpoint,  though  it  had  lost  nothing  of 
its  erectness  and  gave  a  very  fine  impression  of  the  volup- 
tuous pride  of  Juno.  The  short  sleeves  of  her  evening  dress 
of  dark  shot  silk,  left  the  arm  revealed,  and  gave  even  more 
opportunity,  by  its  perfect  and  yet  substantial  mould,  to 
judge  of  the  outline  of  the  remainder  of  the  figure,  than 
might  otherwise  have  been  enjoyed.  Her  face  was  some- 
thing fuller  than  that  of  her  sister  Dora,  as  became  her  fuller 
figure,  though  there  were  many  of  the  same  characteristics  in 
both.  The  same  petulance  on  the  lip,  and  the  same  diminu- 
tiveness  of  the  lower  part  of  the  face,  though  the  forehead 
was  not  so  full,  and  the  coldly  intellectual  seemed  less  fully 
developed.     The  complexity  was  (or  had  been)  nearly  the 


90  TIIE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

same,  and  there  was  the  same  dark  eye,  nearly  passing  for 
black,  without  quite  the  same  natural  scorn  flashing  out  from 
it.  The  hair  was  perceptibly  darker,  though  still  rather  light 
than  dark,  and  just  enough  waved  to  add  to  the  charm  of  its 
wonderful  luxuriance.  Handsomer  than  Dora,  a  little  darker 
and  fuller  in  the  general  effect,  and  yet — 

The  fact  is,  that  we  must  have  been  describing  this  woman 
more  as  we  know  her  to  have  been,  than  as  she  was  at  this 
juncture.  Such  variations  from  strict  fidelity  have  occurred 
and  will  occur  again.  The  past  shines  through  the  present, 
in  face  and  form  as  well  as  in  any  other  particular  that  can  be 
grasped  by  the  human  mind.  The  poor  lost  courtezan  met 
yesterday  in  a  bye-street,  did  not  look  so  wholly  beyond 
sympathy  as  she  would  have  done,  with  her  bleared  eyes  and 
bloated  face,  and  wrapped  in  her  dirty  and  faded  finery,  had 
we  not.  remembered  her  under  other  auspices,  many  a  long 
year  ago.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  mother  ever  quite  loses 
the  impression  that  her  sou  is  still  her  '.'baby  boy,"  with 
sunny  curls  on  his  brow  and  the  glow  of  early  youth  on  his 
cheek,  .though  that  son  has  really  grown  gray-haired  and 
broken,  with  crows-feet  under  the  eyes  and  all  the  charms  of 
youth  passed  away,  as  seen  by  the  eyes  of  others.  And  it  is 
certain  that  the  auld-wife,  looking  into  the  face  of  John 
Anderson  her  Jo,  and  crooning  that  sweetest  of  all  ballads 
of  a  love  beyond  time  or  change,  did  not  quite  see  him  as  he 
stood  beside  her  then,  with  his  hair  thin  and  white  and  his 
limbs  tottering  downward  to  their  final  rest,  but  as  she  had 
seen  him  in  the  early  days,  when  his  hair  was  brown  and 
curly  and  he  leapt  the  style  with  a  boyish  delight  to  come  to 
her  at  the  milking. 

Thank  God  that  this  is  so,  for  it  may  save  us  loves  that 
might  otherwise  pass  away  before  we  were  quite  ready  to 
lose  them  ! 

Olympia  Holt,  (for  she  bore  the  Christian  name  of  her 
mother,)  with  all  the  charm  of  face  and  form  that  has  been 
indicated,  bore  yet  something  in  both  that  made  the  heart 
first  sad,  then  almost  filled  it  with  horror.  There  was  an 
unsteadiness  and  want  of  assertion  in  step  and  position, 
contrasted  with  an  evident  temper  inclined  to  be  even  too 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  91 

self-reliant,  that  created  the  most  painful  suggestions. 
She  could  not  be  what  she  was,  if  all  was  right— she 
should  have  been  more  or  less.  Then  her  hair  gave  the 
impression  of  being  a  little  dishevelled  and  a  good  deal 
Uttcared  for;  and  nothing  so  far  takes  from  the  perfection 
and  dignity  of  a  womanly  presence.  The  lip,  too,  was 
trembling  and  unsteady,  not  softened  from  its  sullenness,  but 
quivering  as  if  with  perpetual  conflict  of  what  would  be  said 
and  dared  not.  Last  of  all,  and  yet  most  significant  of  all, 
the  eye  was  wavering  and  furtive,  continually  attempting  to 
flash  a  defiance  that  faded  away  in  cringing  submission,  and 
with  a  redness  in  the  lids  that  might  have  been  caused  by 
long  weeping  and  might  have  been  produced  by  other  causes 
quite  as  sorrowful. 

And  now  let  it  be  seen  what  were  the  relations  existing 
between  husband  and  wife,  after  eight  years  had  elapsed  since 
the  marriage  of  Charles  Holt  and  Olympia  Fullerton  ;  and 
perhaps  some  light,  though  hot  all  that  must  come  in  the 
future,  may  be  thrown  on  the  mysterious  eclipse  of  this 
woman.  Her  husband's  first  word  may  do  something  to 
hasten  the  explanation. 

"  Drunk  ?"  Not  in  such  a  tone  as  might  have  been  used 
if  the  fact  bad  been  thought  pitiable,  but  as  if  the  inquiry 
had  been  a  mere  matter  of  business,  preparatory  to  another. 

"  No  !  sober  enough  !— soberer  than  I  wish  I  was  !"  came 
the  reply,  jerked  out  from  between  lips  and  teeth  only  by  a 
violent  effort.     "  But  what  is  that  to  you  ?" 

"A  great  deal,"  answered  the  merchant — he  still  sitting, 
she  still  standing,  with  no  invitation  to  do  otherwise.  It  was 
evident  that  she  had  not  sat  down  with  that  man,  in  a  long 
period.  "A  great  deal,  because  one  needs  to  talk  differently 
with  a  drunken  woman,  and  with  one  reasonably  sober." 

"  I  am  sober  enough  for  you,  then,  Charles  Holt !"  was 
the  reply,  with  defiance,  and  yet  defiance  subdued  and  kept 
underpin  the  tone.  "  Speak  on,  and  get  done  with  it,  if  you 
have  any  thing  to  say  !" 

"  In  my  time,  not  yours,"  said  the  merchant.  "  By  the 
way,  I  do  not  see  how  you  could  very  well  be  sober,  by  the 
jingling  of  glasses  and   the   pounding  of  feet,   besides   tho 


92  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

drunken  shoaling,  that  have  been  going  on  up -stairs  daring  the 
half  hour  I  have  been  in  the  houe 

"  Thai  was  my  room,  1  suppose  you  know  it.  and  you  have 
nothing  to  do  with  what  goes  on  inside  of  it  !'*  was  the  reply. 

"Except/5  said  the  merchant — "except  when  you  me 
much  noise  there  that  you  disturb  me  in  my  room,  which  is 
very  inconvenient,  and  cannot  be  allowed  ;  and  except — "  and 
here  he  paused,  as  if  he  wished  to  think  twice  before  he 
spoke,  or  perhaps  for  the  very  purpose  of  exciting  her 
curiosity. 

"And  what  is  the  other  'except'?" 

"  Except  when  there  is  company  in  that  room,  whom  I  do 
not  choose  you  shall  entertain." 

"  Indeed  !"  was  the  coldly-insulting  reply  of  the  wife. 

"  Yes,  indeed  \n  said  the  husband,  echoing  her  word,  with 
a  corresponding  emphasis.  "  Who  are  those,  up-stairs  ?"  and 
his  finger  pointed  towards  the  ceiling  that  again  the  moment 
before  had  been  echoing  with  the  muffled  trample  of  feet. 

"  None  of  your  business,  I  tell  you  !"  came  the  reply  ;  but 
even  in  the  act  of  saying  the  words  the  slavish  submission 
came  on  the  heels  of  the  defiance,  and  she  began  to  recount 
the  names  of  half  a  dozen  wealthy  but  characterless  young 
men  about  town — such  miserable  and  injurious  wine-bibbing 
drones  of  society  as  those  who  figure,  at  short  intervals,  in 
the  disreputable  trials  that  shame  our  large  cities. 

"  Stop  !"  said  the  husband,  "  I  do  not  care  for  their  names, 
except  one.     What  I  want  to  know,  and  what  I  will  know,  is 

, — is there  ?"  and  he  mentioned  the  name  of  a 

well-known  man  about  town,  whose  handsome  face,  courtly 
manners  and  libertinism  have  of  late  years  been  about  equally 
acknowledged. 

''And  again  I  say  that  it  is  none  of  your  business  !"  re- 
peated the  wife. 

"Woman!'"  said  the  merchant,  threatening  in  his  tone, 
now,  whatever  there  might  have  been  before.  "I  thought 
you  had  got  over  defying  me!  It  is  time  you  had  done  so, 
and  the  quicker  the  better  !" 

"What  is  it  to  you  whether  he  is  there,  more  than  any 
other?"  was  the   question  in  reply,  but  with  the   defiance 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  93 

changed  to  sullen  submission  once  more.     "  Do  you  think 
that  he  can  disgrace  your  house,  or  meV* 

"  No  !"  answered  the  merchant.  "  I  have  no  fear  on  the 
subject.  But  I  will  not  permit  him  within  this  house,  and 
you  know  it.  Have  your  drunken  orgies,  according  to  custom 
and  arrangement,"  with  a  terribly  significant  emphasis  on  the 
latter  word  ;  "but  if  I  catch  him  here  he  will  go  out  of  the 
window,  and  there  will  be  an  expose*,  1  am  afraid — that 
is  all  !" 

"  Man  1"  cried  the  evidently  agonized  woman.  "  I  will 
tell  you  the  truth  as  to  his  being  here,  if  you  will  tell  me  why 
you  will  not  permit  him  to  come  with  the  other — wretches." 

"  I  will  do  it,"  said  the  merchant.  "  As  well  now  as  ever. 
Speak  on." 

"  He  is  not  in  this  house,  and  has  not  been  here  this  week, 
upon  my  honor,"  said  the  wife. 

KYery  well,"  was  the  answer.  ''Now  I  will  keep  my 
promise.  The  reason  why  I  will  permit  those  other  people 
whom  you  very  properly  call  '  wretches,'  to  come  to  this 
house  and  enjoy  your  pleasant  society,  and  why  I  will  not 
allow  you  to  receive  him, — is,  that  you  love  him." 

«  Well— if  I  did  ?  if  I  do?"  cried  the  wife,  bitterly.  "What 
then  ?  You  have  just  said  that  you  have  no  fear  of  his  dis- 
gracing me  or  the  house  :  what  harm,  then,  can  he  do?" 

"  No  fear  in  the  world  of  his  disgracing  you  or  the  house 
. — that  I  repeat,"  said  the  merchant.  "  But  there  are  two 
luxuries,  wine  and  love,  and  I  can  only  allow  you  one  of 
them.  I  buy  you  the  best  wines — drink  deeply  as  you  please, 
but  you  cannot  have  the  other  at  the  same  time.  That  is 
mine  !  So  keep  that  man  out  of  the  house — you  under- 
stand !" 

"  Yes,  I  understand  !  Devil !"  said  the  woman,  between 
her  clenched  teeth. 

"Possibly  !"  was  the  cool  reply.  "But  don't  call  names  : 
it  does  not  pay,  with  me.  Now  go  up-stairs  to  your  guests, 
and  have  it  through  !     I  am  going  out." 

Olympia  Holt  turned  away.  What  her  eyes  expressed  it 
is  not  very  easy  to  say — rage,  fear,  misery,  all  so  blended 
that  no  human   analyst  could  separate  them.     What  was  iu 


94  THE       I)  A  Y  3      OF      SHOD  I)  Y . 

her  heart,  none  but  the  All-peeing  Eye  could  pretend  to  judge. 
She  laid  her  hand  on  the  door. 

"  Stop,''  said  the  merchant,  as  he  lit  another  cigar  and 
turned  down  the  light  to  go  out.  "  You  were  round  in 
Twenty-third  Street  yesterday!  I  understood.  Do  they  want 
me,  there  :" 

"Yes — that  is — I  believe  so,"  answered  the  wife,  her  tone 
changed  entirely,  and  her  whole  expression  seeming  like  that 
of  abject  humiliation. 

"  Very  well — I  will  see  them  to-morrow,  then.  That  will 
do — you  may  go.  No — I  forgot  to  tell  you,  though  perhaps 
some  of  your  friends  have  already  brought  you  the  intelli- 
gence, that  your  other  friends  down  in  South  Carolina  have 
been  attacking  Fort  Sumter  and  raising  the  deuce  generally. 
Good-night." 

Before  the  last  words  were  fairly  spoken,  the  degraded  wife 
had  left  the  room,  and,  by  the  time  she  had  rejoined  her 
friends  in  the  room  above,  the  dignified  husband  had  passed 
out  again  into  the  street,  where  there  is  no  occasion  at 
present  to  follow  him.  As  we  have  already  seen,  on  the 
evening  following,  that  of  Sunday,  he  kept  his  promise  to 
visit  the  Fullertons,  and  his  conversation  with  Dora  at  the 
window  seemed  to  have  been  the  legitimate  consequence  of 
these  closing  words. 

The  home  of  the  merchant  has  been  explored,  and  the  joy 
and  comfort  of  the  domestic  relations  existing  in  the  midst  of 
so  much  splendor  faithfully  depicted  :  it  is  time,  now,  to  join 
the  merchant's  clerk  as  he,  too,  takes  his  course  up  Broad- 
way, towards  another  home  and  scene,  presenting  a  marked 
contrast. 

Some  indication  has  been  given  in  a  previous  chapter,  of 
the  feelings  of  Burtnett  Haviland  on  that  Saturday  evening, 
not  only  when  the  intelligence  of  the  fall  of  Sumter  was 
brought  to  him  in  the  store,  but  after  he  had  left  it  on  his 
way  up-town.  But  something  more  may  be  said  on  the  sub- 
ject, for  he  is  not  only  a  very  prominent  character  in  this 
narration,  but  he  presents  a  type  of  popular  feeling  at  that 
juncture,  not  the  less  worth  study  because  the  number  of 
persons  sharing  in  it  may  have  been  comparatively  few.     He 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  95 

was  very  sensitive  on  national  subjects — over-sensitive,  as 
those  who  knew  him  best  sometimes  alleged,  and  as  he  him- 
self believed  in  his  calmer  moments.  The  country  was  to 
him  a  mother,  quite  as  dear  as  any  human  mother  could  have 
been  ;  and  he  could  not  think  of  any  shame  or  dishonor 
coming  to  her,  without  an  indignant  grief  at  the  heart,  any 
more  than  he  could  have  done  of  the  foulest  wrong  or  dis- 
honor falling  upon  her  who  had  given  him  birth.  Those 
bluer  tears  he  had  shed  in  the  store,  had  not  been  by  any 
means  the  first  escaping  from  his  eyes  for  the  same  cause  ; 
for  during  the  previous  few  months  he  had  seen  the  ruin 
coming — had  seen  the  rebellion  gathering  head,  unchecked — 
had  seen  the  power  of  the  nation  lying  dead  or  dormant — had 
feared  the  worst,  and  doubted  whether  the  end  would  not  be 
the  destruction  of  the  last  republic  ever  inaugurated  on  earth. 
More  than  once  his  wife  had  said  to  him,  partially  in  jest  and 
yet  with  a  good  deal  of  earnestness  in  her  manner,  that  "she 
believed  that  he  thought  more  of  the  country  than  he  did  of 
her  and  Pet";  and  while  he  had  gathered  both  within  his 
arms  at  that  word,  he  had  at  the  same  time  answered  that 
"  he  did  not  know  but  he  did!" 

AValking  up  Broadway  that  evening,  a  little  in  advance  of 
the  merchant,  he  did  not  lounge  like  him.  He  was  not 
walking,  like  him,  so  much  for  exercise  (for  he  had  quite 
exercise  enough  in  his  business  hours)  or  to  kill  time  (for  he 
had  no  time  hanging  so  heavily  on  his  hands  that  he  needed 
to  perform  such  a  murderous  operation  upon  it)  as  because 
the  motion  of  his  limbs  was  a  relief,  just  then  when  his  brain 
was  so  full  of  heavy  and  anxious  thought.  He,  too,  saw  the 
articles  of  show  in  the  windows  as  he  passed,  and  thought 
how  miserably  vain  and  trifling  was  humanity,  "  pleased  with 
a  rattle,  tickled  with  a  straw,"  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
thunders  of  God's  judgment  were  breaking  in  the  heavens. 
He  wondered  how  long  it  might  be  before  national  ruin 
closed  those  showy  windows,  or  riotous  violence  laid  the 
fairest  monuments  of  New  York's  commercial  prosperity 
level  with  the  street.  He,  too,  met  a  small  boy  (as  did  every 
one  who  walked  Broadway  that  evening),  and  bought  a  red, 
white  and  blue  rosette,  with  a  silver  star  in  the  centre,  which 


96  THE      DATS      OF      SHODDY. 

he  pinned  to  the  lappel  of  his  vest ;  but  he  pressed  the 
national  colors  reverently  to  his  lips  ns  he  did  so. 

Near  Canal  Street  an  elderly  merchant  of  his  acquaintance, 
coming  down-town  on  his  way  to  one  of  the  Brooklyn  ferries, 
met  and  accosted  him.  He  had  been  heavily  in  the  Southern 
grocery  trade,  and  during  the  preceding  few  weeks  passers-by 
had  seen  a  palmetto-tree  standing  in  his  front  office,  as  one 
more  "concession  to  Che  Sontby  ami  a  rank  insult  to  every 
loyal  man  who  passed.  His  position,  therefore,  on  the 
national  question,  was  fairly  understood. 

"Well,  Sumter  has  gone,  at  last,'' he  said,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  the  young  clerk. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  latter.  "I  fancy  that  they  have 
about  filled  the  cup  of  their  outrages,  now." 

"  Which  ?"  asked  the  merchant  Then  he  added  :  "  But  I 
need  not  ask.  I  suppose  I  know  you — you  are  about  as  mad 
as  the  rest  of  them." 

"  Perhaps  so,'1  said  Haviland.  "  Perhaps  we  are  all  mad  ; 
but  if  I  do  not  miss  a  figure,  you  will  see  such  a  spectacle  of 
national  indignation  in  these  Btreets,  before  many  days  are 
over,  or  even  before  many  hours,  as  history  never  recorded." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  the  other,  his  manner  ex- 
pressing any  thing  but  satisfaction  at  the  thought. 

"Mean?  Why,  mean  that  the  people  will  rise,  if  the 
government  does  not  call  them  up  !"  replied  the  clerk.  (It 
must  be  remembered  that  the  proclamation  was  not  published 
until  the  next  morning.) 

"  Rise  in  arms,  and  to  put  down  the  South,  here  ?"  asked 
the  merchant,  a  very  perceptible  sneer  in  his  tone. 

11  Rise  in  arms,  here,  not  to  put  down  the  South,  as  you 
call  it,  but  to  put  down  the  Southern  traitors  !"  was  the 
reply.  "And  if  they  do  not.  the  city  of  New  York  deserves 
to  be  sunk  with  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  !" 

"  Bah  !  Mark  my  words,  }roung  man,"  said  the  merchant, 
starting  on,  "  if  there  is  any  rising  here,  and  any  troops  leave 
this  city,  four  times  as  many  will  go  to  help  the  South  as  to 
fight  against  it.  If  you  were  not  very  young  in  comparison 
with  myself,  you  would  know  that  the  interest  of  the  Southern 
States  is  the  interest  of  Xew  York,  as  opposed  to  that  of  the 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  97 

manufacturing  abolition  East,  and  that  when  the  Southern 
trade  all  went  permanently  away,  we  might  as  well  shut  up 
our  doors  at  once.  A  rising  against  the  South  ?  Bah  ! 
But  you  will  think  better  of  it  to-morrow  morning  !  Good 
night !"  and  he  passed  on,  downward,  while  Haviland  par- 
sued  hifl  course  up  Broadway. 

Here  was  more  food  for  sad  and  serious  thought.  Was  it 
indeed  true,  that  the  great  commercial  city  was  rotten  with 
such  sentiments  as  these  ?  Were  there  many  merchants, 
near  enough  to  fools,  and  inclined  enough  to  be  traitors,  not 
to  know  and  assert  that  the  interest  of  New  York  lay  with 
the  Union  and  not  with  any  miserable  section,  however 
large  ?  Was  this  leaven  really  Spread  very  widely  ?  Was 
there  to  be  a  "  conflict  at  the  North. "  when  every  man  needed 
to  hold  the  one  great,  true,  overwhelming  patriotic  feeling? 
If  so,  God  help  the  country,  indeed  !  But  he  could  not — . 
would  not  believe  it ;  and  the  near  sequel  showed  how  much 
more  the  gray-haired  merchant  knew  of  the  temper  even  of 
the  mercantile  community,  than  the  clerk  who  had  not  counted 
more  than  halt'  his  number  of  years  ! 

Haviland  saw  the  bill-boards  of  the  theatres  a^;  he  went  by,* 
and  read  the  announcements  on  them,  very  much  as  one 
studies  the  architectural  details  of  the  inside  of  a  church 
when  attending  the  funeral  of  a  dear  friend  within  it.  He 
knew  that  an  hour  later,  when  the  doors  should  open  and 
the  lights  and  the  music  beckon,  hundreds  would  flock  in, 
and  mimic  love  and  agony — perhaps  mimic  war,  be  repre- 
sented, the  latter  by  mighty  armies  of  four  or  six,  while  such 
a  struggle  as  the  world  never  saw  was  gathering  over  the  land. 
He    would   himself  just  as  soon    have   gone    out   from   the 

*  It  inay  be  a  matter  of  interest,  at  no  distant  day,  to  know  what  were  the 
performances  at  the  New  York  theatres  when  Anderson  was  defending  Sum- 
ter and  the  civil  war  beginning.  Forrest  was  playing  Virgiutu,  at  Nibio'sj 
Laura  Keene  was  running  the  "  Seven  Sisters;"  Edwin  Booth  was  playing 
Bhylock,  and  Charles  Dillon  Belphegor,  at  the  Winter  Garden';  Wallaek  was 
running  Wilkins'  successful  play,  "  Henrietta  r"  Fox  was  doing  "Mother 
and  Robt.  Johnston  ihe  "Bag  Picker,"  at  the  New  Bowery  ;  and 
Spalding's  and  Rogers'  Circus  wa6  at  the  Old.  "  Un  Ballo  in  Masehera"  and 
'Mums  in  Egypt"  were  the  features  at  the  Academy  of  Music,  then  just 
closing  its  season. 

6 


98  THE      PAY?      OF      SnOIiDT. 

funeral  of  all  he  loved  best  in  the  world,  and  stepped  into 
theatre  or  ball-room,  as  to  have  done  so  on  that  evening ; 
and  had  he  been  able  to  judge  the  future  and  read  the  hearts 
of  others,  he  would  have  known  that  many  thought  like  him- 
self, and  that  the  box-books  of  the  theatres  then  and  for 
manv  a  long  dav  after  would  show  the  effects  of  the  national 
discouragement. 

At  Astor  Place  the  young  man  crossed  to  Third  Avenue 
and  took  a  car  upward.  Thereafter,  for  half  an  hour  or  i 
he  too  was  eclipsed  and  crushed  in  the  Btifled  atmosphere  of 
a  car.  and  smothered  beneath  dresses  and  bundles,  as  his  em- 
ployer was  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  stage  at  about  the  same  period. 
The  eclipse  came  to  a  conclusion,  however,  as  in  the  other 
case,  and  the  young  clerk  emerged  from  the  obscurity  to  the 
light  of  his  home  on  East  Forty-eighth  Street,  between  the 
Second  and  Third  Avenues, 

A  neat  little  brown-stone  house  it  was  that  he  approached, 
a  link  between  the  palatial  residences  of  the  same  material 
on  the  more  fashionable  streets  and  avenues,  and  the  humbler 
houses  of  brick  in  which  men  of  moderate  salaries  and  small 
expectations  are  generally  content  to  hud  a  home.  A  neat 
little  brown-stone  house — and  yet  more  costly  than  the  clerk 
could  have  afforded  to  occupy,  had  he  and  his  peaceable  little 
family  not  been  willing  to  submit  to  that  "  dividing''  of  a 
house  which  is  especially  anathematized  with  a  very  different 
meaning  to  the  word,  in  Scripture.  Tn  other  phrase,  Burtnett 
Haviland  only  rented  half  a  house — a  most  humiliating 
admission  to  make  in  his  behalf,  and  one  that  is  accordingly 
made  with  the  due  proportion  of  fear  and  trembling.  There 
have  been  romances  written,  setting  forth  almost  every  other 
description  of  living,  than  this  :  but  this  is  unquestionably  a 
novel  feature,  to  be  admitted  when  all  the  rest  of  the  book  is 
proved  to  have  been  stolen  from  Alexandre  Dumas,  Dickens, 
Balzac,  Bulwer.  Fennimore  Cooper,  Simms,  and  even  perhaps 
Cobb  and  Xed  Buntline.  Particular  shaped  houses  have 
been  made  the  habitations  of  heroes  and  heroines,  from 
Hawthorne's  "  House  of  the  Seven  Gables'1  to  the  "  Semi- 
Detached  House"  of  some  English  noodle  who  thought  that 
the  success  of  the  former  lav  in  the  architecture  of  the  build- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  99 

ing  instead  of  the  brains  of  the  writer;  and  there  is  no 
knowing-  whether  some  secondhand  imitator  did  not  go  still 
further  down  and  write  of  the  "House  with  the  Mahogany 
Balusters^  or  the  "  Castle  with  the  Big  Crack  over  the 
Door."  Then  we  have  had  plenty  of  stories  located  in 
bouses  where  families  lived  alone,  and  not  a  few  in  tenement- 
houses  where  the  floors  numbered  seven,  with  six  families  of 
nine  children  each  on  every  floor.  But  we  have  had  none 
Showing  the  abodes  of  the  really  "middle  classes,"  who 
hover  between  wealth  and  poverty — between  partial  want 
and  comparative  luxury;  and  so  let  this  story  be  known,  if 
no  better  distinguishing  title  can  be  found  for  it,  by  the 
name  of  the  "  Story  of  a  Man  Who  Only  Occupied  Half  A 
House." 

Burtnett  Haviland  had  been  married  four  whole  years,  and 
yet  his  wife  had  never  quite  forgotten  the  days  gone  by, 
when  he  came  to  visit  her  in  her  mother's  little  cottage  in  the 
country,  and  when  she  used  to  watch  for  him  from  the  door 
and  meet  him  at  the  gate.  There  were  no  roses  or  climbing 
honey-suckles  in  the  scant  front  yard  of  the  little  house  on 
East  Forty-eighth  Street,  and  so  some  of  the  conditions  of 
romance  were  wanting ;  but  the  heart  could  supply,  it 
appeared,  all  that  nature  denied,  and  the  young  wife  had  the 
unfashionable  habit,  when  she  knew  the  time  at  which 
she  might  expect  her  husband's  return,  if  her  domestic 
avocations  allowed,  of  stepping  down  to  the  door  and  waiting  to 
give  him  welcome,  albeit  the  important  mistress  of  the  family 
who  occupied  the  lower  half  of  the  house  (alas  ! — another 
confession  must  be  made,  and  the  Haviland  family  only  occu- 
pied the  upper,  and  cheaper  !) — albeit  that  important  lady 
had  more  than  once  suggested  that  the  front  stoop  belonged 
exclusively  to  the  lower  occupants,  and  that  people  who 
lived  above  had  no  business  upon  it  any  longer  than  might 
be  necessary  to  pass  in  and  out!  Spite  of  all  this,  Mwy 
Haviland  had  a  habit  of  coining  down  to  meet  her  bnsban  i 
when  she  could  guess  at  the  time  of  his  return  ;  and  thong!) 
it  was  a  little  late  on  this  evening,  the  dusk  fairly  fallen  and 
the  gas  lighted  in  the  street,  she  stood  on  the  upper  step  of 
the  stoop,  the  full  glare  of  one  of  the  street  lamps  falling  upon 


100  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

her  pleasant  face  and  neat  figure,  and  showing  that  gladness 
in  her  eyes  at  the  husband's  approach,  which  can  neither  be 
disguised  nor  simulated. 

A  pleasant  picture  indeed  was  Mary  Ilaviland.  with  her 
blonde  hair  swept  plainly  back  from  her  Madonna  forehead  ; 
her  brown  eyes  radiant  with  the  pure  love-light  which 
belongs  especially  to  the  mistress  of  a  happy  home  when 
standing  on  her  own  door-stone  ;  her  well-cut  and  almost 
purely  Grecian  features,  with  the  lips  budding,  the  cheeks  a 
little  flushed  and  the  chin  dotted  with  a  cunning  little  dimple  ; 
and  her  cheap  but  neat  wrapper  of  dark  small  figured  delaine 
revealing  a  figure  a  little  below  the  middle  height  and  yet  erect, 
full  moulded,  and  giving  evidence  of  the  most  robust  health. 
A  close  view,  it  may  be  thought,  to  be  caught  beneath  the 
doubtful  lamp-light  from  the  street;  and  if  so,  let  it  be  sup- 
posed that  a  part  of  it  was  caught  a  few  moments  after,  in 
the  broader  light  which  fell  on  the  supper-table. 

A  clasping  of  the  hand,  a  kiss  and  a  gentle  word  of  greet- 
ing, then  a  reminder  from  the  wife  that  supper  had  been 
some  time  waiting  ;  and  the  married  pair,  a  pair  indeed, 
entered  the  hall,  closed  the  door  and  passed  up  the  stairway 
to  the  floor  above.  With  the  exception  of  two  sleeping- 
apartments  on  the  third  floor,  the  whole  space  occupied  by  the 
Havilands  was  upon  that  they  had  just  reached  ;  and  through 
the  open  door  leading  into  the  rear  apartment  showed  a 
neat  little  supper-table  with  their  single  female  servant  sitting 
beside  it,  and  a  plated  tea-pot  pouring  out  fragrant  steam 
from  the  top  of  a  small  range  set  in  front  of  the  closed 
grate.  The  door  of  the  front  apartment  was  also  open,  as 
if  every  thing  had  been  thrown  wide  to  admit  the  coming 
husband  ;  and  a  diminutive  chandelier  of  only  two  branches, 
dependent  from  the  ceiling,  threw  a  pleasant  light  from  a 
single  burner,  on  a  carpet  of  that  peculiar  wood  color  known 
as  "  English  oak" ;  tables,  a  mirror  and  a  small  sofa  in 
walnut  ;  a  few  framed  engravings  of  excellent  quality  on 
the  satin-papered  walls  (no  less  than  two  Wash! 
among  them — oik1  a  copy  of  the  great  head  by  Stuart  and  the 
other  a  proof  of  Darley's  fine  equestrian  figure) ;  a  small  book 
case,  with  a  fair   representation  of  current  literature  ;  small 


T  IT  E      DAY  9      0  F      SHODDY.  101 

photographs  of  husband  and  wife,  and  a  larger  one  of  "Pet," 
over  the  mantel  «  and  a  cylinder  stove  standing  brightly 
polished  but  guiltless  of  fire,  under  it.  Opening  out  of  this  room, 
and  also  into  the  hall,  was  the  small  bed-room  which  formed 
the  inner  penetralia  of  the  happy  household,  where  the  little 
girl  of  three  years  already  lay  in  childish  sleep,  in  her 
diminutive  crib,  where  husband  and  wife  would  erewhile 
repose — for,  alas  ! — how  long  ? 

The  eyes  of  love  are  very  keen — too  keen,  as  we  some- 
times think  when  there  is  a  momentary  grief  to  be  hidden  or 
a  less  creditable  cause  of  embarrassment  to  be  dissembled. 
There  had  been  no  want  of  warmth  or  gladness  on  the  part 
of  her  husband  as  he  met  her  at  the  door  and  accompanied 
her  up  to  the  little  parlor  ;  yet  Mary  Haviland  saw,  intuitively, 
that  his  mind  was  not  quite  at  ease,  that  his  hand  trembled  a 
little  with  nervousness,  and  that  his  eye  was  sad  and  troubled. 
The  met  was,  it  may  be  supposed,  that  to  the  man  who  felt 
himself  self-doomed  to  temporary  if  not  eternal  earthly  sepa- 
ration from  those  whom  he  loved  so  dearly,  the  very  sight  of 
wife  and  home  had  brought  a  more  marked  agitation — no  fal- 
tering in  purpose,  but  a  still  more  bitter  consciousness  of 
what  the  resolution  involved. 

"And  what  is  it,  Burtey  VJ  at  length  asked  the  wife,  as 
the  domestic  was  placing  the  tea-service  on  the  table,  in  the 
other  room.  She  used  the  diminutive  as  a  term  of  endear- 
ment— a  very  common  and  very  effective  practice  with  those 
little  women, — and  assuming  the  existence  of  trouble  with- 
out even  asking  the  preliminary  question.  She  locked  her 
hand  in  his  arm  at  the  same  moment,  and  looked  up  into  his 
face  with  such  trust  and  confidence  as  should  have  made  him, 
and  no  doubt  did  make  him  for  the  one  instant  during  which 
he  forgot  the  coming  weight  of  his  cross,  the  happiest  fellow 
in  the  world. 

"  What  is  what,  little  one  ?"  he  answered,  with  an  evasion 
seldom  practised  by  either  member  of  that  domestic  partner- 
ship. 

"  Your  trouble — you  have  one — don't  tease  me,  or  I  shall 
pinch  you  !"  and  she  laid  her  fingers  on  his  coat  sleeve  as  if 
.she  really  intended  to  carry  out  the  dangerous  threat. 


102  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

"  Don't  pinch,  or  I  shall  have  you  taken  iip  for  assault  and 
battery  !  Trouble  ?  Xo,  I  think  not  !  Shall  we  go  to  sup- 
per?" So  answered  the  husband.  (It  will  be  noticed  that  the 
merchant  dined  and  his  clerk  supped,  at  about  the  same  hour 
— strange  difference  in  the  habits  of  two  men  in  the  same 
line  of  emplo}'ment,  and  two  men  whose  digestive  organs  may 
be  supposed  to  have  been  very  nearly  similar  !) 

"Not  a  step  until  you  have  told  me  what  is  the  matter." 
said  the  wife.  "There  i&  trouble,  I  know  it  !  You  are  not 
sick  ? — no,  I  know  that.  Have  you  lust  something — been 
worried  ?  insulted  ?  Has  any  thing  happened  in  your  busi- 
ness ?" 

"  Torment !  I  meant  at  least  to  have  my  supper  in  peace, 
but  I  suppose  that  I  cannot !"  said  the  husband,  in  a  tone 
that  he  endeavored  to  make  as  cheerful  as  possible,  but  that 
somehow  had  earnest  and  deep  feeling  iu  it.  "Yes,  we  have 
all  been  insulted — we  have  all  lost  something  !  Come  to  the 
table,  and  I  will  tell  you." 

They  passed  together  through  the  narrow  passage,  flanked 
with  a  clothes-closet  on  the  one  hand  and  a  range  of  standing 
drawers  and  shelves  reaching  to  the  ceiling  on  the  other,  that 
led  to  the  other  room  ;  and  while  the  servant-girl  handed  the 
crisp  brown  toast  and  Mary  Haviland  poured  out  the  aro- 
matic tea,  the  husband  told  in  a  few  words  the  story  of  Sum- 
ter, which  seems  destined  never  to  come  to  an  end  with  the 
allusions  made  to  it  in\these  pages. 

14  Can  this  be  possible  ?  oh,  dear  !  oh,  dear  !"  said  the  little 
woman,  who,  herself  naturally  proud  and  patriotic  to  some 
extent,  had  been  influenced  by  the  conversation  and  manner 
of  her  husband  during  the  preceding  months  of  trouble  and 
anxiety,  until  she  had  become  nearly  as  great  an  enthusiast 
as  he  in  all  matters  that  touched  the  honor  and  welfare  of  the 
nation. 

44  This  is  all  possible — this  has  all  happened  !"  answered  the 
husband,  (though  it  must  be  unromantically  confessed  that 
his  mouth  was  partially  full  of  toast  at  the  moment,  his  utter- 
ance not  being  improved  thereby). 

"And  what  is  to  be  the  end  of  it  all  ?"  asked  the  wife,  who 


T  II  K       DAYS      p  F      S  II  O  J>  D  Y.  103 

naturally  felt  that  the  national  troubles  could  neither  end  nor 
Btaud  still,  just  here. 

•'War — long,  bloody  and  desolating-  war!"  said  the  hus- 
band, no  toast  in  his  mouth  now,  his  voice  sinking  very  low, 
and  his  eyes  looking  out  from  beneath  his  bent  brows  at  the 
little  woman  seated  on  the  other  side  of  the  table. 

If  there  was  earnestness  and  anxiety  in  that  glance,  the 
same  qualities  were  shown  in  that  which  was  returned,  for 
Mary  Ilaviland  nearly  dropped  the  tea-cup  which  she  was 
about  to  re-fill,  her  face  perceptibly  paled  for  the  moment  and 
her  whole  manner  seemed  agitated.  The  wife  understood  all 
that  must  come  upon  herself,  in  that  single  short  sentence. 
She  knew  her  husband  to  be  brave,  physically  as  well  as 
morally.  She  knew  him  to  have  a  high  sense  of  personal 
duty  in  all  relations.  She  knew  how  he  despised  the  sender 
who  should  have  been  the  goer,  in  any  line  of  action.  She 
knew  how  deep  and  abiding  was  the  anxiety  for  the  nation 
which  lay  upon  his  heart — an  anxiety  which  had  uot  alone 
manifested  itself  in  their  hours  of  conversation  by  day,  but 
sometimes  broken  out  from  his  lips  in  the  words  of  troubled 
dreams  when  he  lay  beside  her  at  night,  lie  had  said,  with 
that  peculiar  glance,  that  there  must  be  bloody  and  desolating 
war,  and  he  had  said  in  that  glance  and  in  the  tone  of  his 
utterance,  that  he  must  form  a  part  of  that  bloody  pageant 
whenever  it  should  be  arrayed.  She  believed  him,  as  she 
might  have  done  one  of  the  archangels  of  heaven;  and  from 
that  moment  she  knew  that  the  unbroken  companionship  of 
the  last  four  years  was  soon  to  be  no  more  for  a  time  and 
might  be  no  more  forever  ! 

And  yet  no  shrinking — no  !  Sadness  and  sorrow,  deep  in 
the  heart,  but  no  shrinking ;  and  even  the  sorrow  so  shut 
down  that  it  should  not  have  power  to  issue  from  the  lips. 
Some  of  those  little  women  have  a  power  of  being  heroines 
Without  fuss,  lamentably  denied  to  us  of  the  sterner  and 
stormier  sex  ;  and  Mary  Haviland,  who  had  been  fluttered 
and  nervous  the  moment  before,  now  that  she  knew  the  worst, 
shook  off  the  agitation  and  looked  her  own  calm  self  again, 
almost  smiling,  as  she  said  : 

"  I  understand  you,  Burtey  !     You  know  best !     What  a 


10-i  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

terrible  tea-drinkef  yon  are,  when  you  finish  two  cups  and  ask 
fur  the  third  before  I  have  finished  even  one  !" 

Little  Pet,  who  had  heard  Papa's  voice  even  in  her  first 
nap,  rushed  out  in  her  night-clothes  at  this  juncture,  her  brown 
eyes  half  shut  and  blinded  by  the  light,  and  her  curly  hair  all 
damp  and  tumbled.  Then  she  had  to  be  taken  up  and 
kissed,  and  before  h<>r  presence  even  the  omens  of  war  and 
domestic  separation  faded  away,  to  come  back  again  when  the 
house  grew  still  and  Burtnett  Haviland,  encircled  by  the  fond 
arms  that  might  soon  be  exchanged  for  a  more  bony  pressure, 
"  talked  in  his  sleep." 


CHAPTER   Y. 

A  Short  Chapter  and  a  Dull  One — All  History  and  no 
Romance — The  rising  of  the  People — Statistics  and 
Incidents  of  Flag-raising — Rosettes,  patriotic  carts 
and  "Union"  public  houses — Movements  and  events 
after  Sumter — The  President's  Proclamation — Danger 
of  the  Capital  and  Baltimore — Military  preparations 
in  the  great  city. 

Then  came  the  rising  of  the  people. 

History  has  no  more  glorious  spectacle  than  that  which 
followed  the  fall  of  Sumter  and  the  issue  of  the  President's 
Proclamation  calling  for  troops  to  assert  the  honor  and  dignity 
of  the  nation.  No  such  rebellion  had  ever  been  known,  in  the 
magnitude  of  its  preparations  or  the  guilt  of  its  object ;  and 
no  such  rising  had  ever  been  seen,  in  the  number  of  men  in- 
volved in  it  or  the  sacredness  of  the  cause  for  which  they 
were  preparing  to  combat.  The  sight  may  have  been  a  glo- 
rious and  a  stirring  one,  when  the  New  York  Liberty  Boy 
ran  out  of  his  workshop,  with  his  grimed  hands  and  sooty 
face,  to  take  part  against  the  murderous  action  of  the  British 
soldiery  at  Golden  Hill, — or  when  the  Massachusetts  farmer 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  105 

left  his  plough  standing  in  the  furrow  and  the  oxen  to  be  un- 
yoked by  oilier  hands,  as  he  rushed  home  to  grasp  the  mus- 
ket and  make  himself  a  deadly  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  red- 
coats who  had  massacred  his  brothers  at  Lexington.  But  the 
men  of  the  Revolution  were  the  men  of  rougher  and  hardier 
times,  scarcely  emerged,  yet,  from  the  perils  of  the  old  French 
war,  and  surrounded  still  by  savages  for  whom  the  fire-lock 
was  kepi  ever  loaded  in  the  house  and  the  hand  ever  trained 
to  wield  the  weapon.  The  men  called  to  combat  this  rebel- 
lion were  the  men  of  peace — the  men  of  work  and  of  trade, 
bred  in  an  age  when  luxury  had  surrounded  them  with  an 
imperceptible  but  all-powerful  net  to  fetter  their  limbs, — un- 
accustomed to  war,  incredulous  that  such  a  calamity  could 
fall  upon  them,  and  as  unprepared  as  men  could  be,  in  every 
regard,  for  the  summons  to  such  a  trial. 

It  may  be  said  again— history  has  no  more  glorious  specta- 
cle than  this  rising.  Southern  traitors  had  considered  such  a 
thing  a  sheer  impossibility,  and  made  the  want  of  warlike 
Spirit  in  the  North  one  of  the  bases  of  their  evil  calculations, 
even  if  they  did  not  expect  active  aid  in  their  own  behalf. 
Quasi-traitors  at  the  Xorth  (like  him  of  the  palmetto-tree  and 
the  well-bred  sneer  of  age  and  experience,  noticed  in  the  last 
chapter)  had  formed  the  same  opinion,  extending  even  to  the 
supposition  of  Xew  York  casting  in  her  lot  with  South  Caro- 
lina, as  opposed  to  Pennsylvania  and  the  Eastern  States.  The 
truest  lovers  of  their  country  had  held  little  or  no  hope  of 
such  a  demonstration  as  would  dishearten  rebellion  and  teach 
the  world  a  needed  lesson.  William  Howard  Russell,  L  L.D., 
new  in  his  appointment  as  American  special  correspondent  of 
the  London  Times,  had  passed  through  New  York  and  writ- 
ten to  his  journal  that  the  whole  nation  was  lying  in  apathy 
from  which  it  could  not  be  aroused,  caring  for  nothing  but 
eating  and  drinking,  rioting  and  making  love — an  essentially 
unmilitary  nation,  from  which  nothing  energetic  could  be 
hoped  or  expected.  Such  had  been  the  omens  aud  the  ex- 
pectations: what  was  the  glorious  reality! 

Saturday  evening  and  night,  as  has  been  seen,  were 
a  period  of  wild  anger  and  sorrow — indignation  and  de- 
termination as  yet  blind  and  unshapen.     Sunday  was  a  day 


106  T  II  B      D  A  V  S      0  F      SHODDY. 

of  flag-raising,  to  ;m  extent  unparalleled  in  the  history  of 
that  sacred  day.  The  glorious  omen  of  the  apotheosis  of  the 
flag  lias  before  been  mentioned,  bul  something  more  may  be 
said  of  its  generality,  as  part  of  the  history  of  the  time. 
Monday,  with  the  coming  of  the  President's  proclamation 
calling  for  seventy-five  thousand  troops,  brought  a  marked 
increase  in  the  number  of  flags  floating  from  every  mast  and 
steeple,  draped  over  every  door  and  drooping  from  every  roof 
and  cornice.  The  costliest  residences  on  the  avenues  vied 
with  the  places  of  trade  and  the  public  buildings  in  throwing 
out  the  national  banner.  The  stocks  of  manufactured  flags 
in  the  stores  soon  began  to  be  exhausted,  and  the  prices 
doubled  and  trebled  without  any  abatement  in  the  demand. 
Soon  the  stock  of  silks,  buntings  and  other  ordinary  flag 
materials  began  to  run  low  :  then  flannels  and  muslins  of 
the  proper  colors  came  into  requisition.  Every  liberty-pole 
flaunted  its  flag,  and  hundreds  of  poles  were  raised,  both  in 
city  and  country,  where  they  had  never  stood  before,  even  in 
the  hottest  political  contests.  The  public  building  that  had 
been  inadvertently  left  without  a  flag-staff  when  erected, 
suddenly  found  such  an  appendage  not  only  proper  but  in- 
dispensable. The  man  who  could  manage  to  procure  a  flag 
and  did  not  do  it,  stood  in  danger  of  insult  at  least.  The 
proprietor  of  any  public  place  who  neglected  to  throw  out 
the  ensign,  was  looked  upon  with  distrust :  if  he  refused,  he 
was  indebted  to  public  forbearance  and  not  to  public  respect, 
for  freedom  from  serious  injury — a  freedom  which  he  did  not 
always  preserve  until  the  close  of  the  excitement.  In  some 
instances,  where  buildings  were  occupied  by  people  of  oppo- 
site sentiments,  the  openly  loyal  took  the  precaution  to  hang 
out  the  flag  with  letters  appended  announcing  which  of  the 
varying  interests  made  that  concession  to  individual  feeling  or 
the  public  voice.*  At  one  time  the  leading  streets  of  New 
York  City  were  so  festooned  with  flags  as  scarcely  to  leave 

*  A  notable  example  of  this  was  shown  at  one  of  the  public  buildings  in 
New  York  City.  One  of  the  daily  newspapers,  which  occupied  the  lower  part 
of  the  building,  and  the  loyalty  of  which  was  very  seriously  doubted,  re- 
fused to  throw  out  the  flag:  and  one  of  the  department-  of  the  City  Govern- 
ment, occupying  the  upper  stories,  took  care  that  the  flag  they  flung  out 
should  desiiriuue  \shcre  it  belonged. 


TIM-:      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  107 

the  mercantile  signs  visible;  and  the  flap  of  bunting  was  so 
general  as  to  keep  the  ryes  of  the  passer-by  in  a  continual 
quiver  of  movement.  A  careful  statician,  whose  fancy  for 
numbers  would  probably  have  led  him  to  count  the  number 
of  heart-beats  consumed  in  the  duration  of  its  dearest  joy, 
made  the  estimate,  from  personal  observation,  that  the  num- 
ber of  Bags  of  all  descriptions  visible  on  Broadway,  from  the 
Battery  to  Union  Square,  on  one  of  the  hottest  days  of  the  ex- 
eitement,  was  not  less  than  six  thousand,  and  that  from  ten  to 
Bfteeri  thousand  were  at  the  same  time  waving,  flapping  and 
hanging  in  all  the  other  different  streets  and  avenues  of 
the  city. 

Another  display  in  which  the  public  feeling  broke  out,  was 
in  Union  rosettes,  stars,  breast-pins,  and  other  trifles  of  per- 
sonal adornment.  The  rosette-fever,  particularly,  began  early 
and  spread  beyond  computation.  Commencing  with  the  very 
evening  of  Sumter  (as  we  have  seen)  the  wearing  of  those 
emblems  of  fealty  to  the  Union  grew  more  general  day  by 
day,  until  within  a  week  after  the  fall  of  that  fort,  the  man 
who  did  not  display  something  of  the  kind  on  his  breast  or 
at  his  lappel,  was  very  likely  to  have  his  loyalty  seriously 
suspected.  Ladies,  too,  assumed  those  emblems,  quite  as 
eagerly,  though  not  with  the  same  generality,  as  their  hus- 
bands, brothers,  and  lovers;  and  among  the  most  grateful 
services  that  could  be  rendered  by  fair  hands  was  the  weaving 
of  one  of  those  "favors,"  to  be  worn  not  in  honor  of  herself, 
but  her  country.  (What  would  not  some  of  us  be  willing  to 
pay,  now,  had  we  preserved  some  of  those  stars,  rosettes, 
and  other  emblems  of  universal  loyalty,  then  so  common  as 
to  appear  unworthy  of  hoarding,  but  long  since  passed  into 
the  hands  of  the  children  as  playthings,  and  already  so  gen- 
erally lost  that  scarcely  one  can  be  found  even  in  a  museum 
or  a  private  collection  !) 

Another  phase  of  loyalty  (the  reserved  force  of  which  a 
dry  joker  might  have  designated  as  the  re-publican)  was 
shown  in  the  signs  of  the  public  houses,  especially  those  of 
moderate  class  and  character.  Here  and  there,  in  city  and 
country,  there  had  been  a  "  Union  Hotel,"  as  there  had  been 
a  "United   States"  or  a  "Washington."     But  within  a  day 


108  THE      DAYS      OF      SIIoDDY. 

or  two  after  Sumter  the  number  began  to  increase  to  an  un- 
heard-of extent ;  and  in  the  ci  ly,  scarcely  a 
block  existed  wit  bout  at  least  one  place  of  public  resort 
designated  as  the  "Union. n  Clothing,  shoe,  hardware,  and 
even  tbread-and -needle  Stores  followed  ;  and  the  same  care- 
ful numerist  to  whom  allusion  has  before  been  made,  com- 
puted that  within  a  week  after  tl.  ntrage,  no  less  than 
twelve  hundred  saloons,  and  otl  er  places  depending 
upon  the  public  patronage,  could  have  been  found,  in  the  city 
of  Xew  York  alone,  bearing  that  word  which  had  suddenly 
become  so  endeared.  A  trifling  circumstance,  as  some  may 
hold,  and  one  not  worth  recording;  but  it  may  not  be  con- 
sidered a  trifle,  as  indicating  the  general  feeling,  when  it  is  re- 
membered that  each  of  those  assuming  it  Mas  acting  to  secure 
additional  popularity,  and  that  each,  consequently,  was  ful- 
filling" what  he  held  to  be  the  public  requirement.  It  may 
have  been  even  a  more  trifling  thing-,  when  the  cartman,  not 
satisfied  with  the  rosette  on  his  breast  and  the  flags  he  had 
stuck  into  the  bridle  of  his  horse,  came  clown-town  one  morn- 
ing with  the  same  magic  word,  "Union.'"  scrawled  in  hasty 
paint  on  the  front-board  of  his  cart. — and  when  another,  the 
proprietor  of  a  new  spring- cart  with  permanent  sides,  dis- 
played it  to  astonished  Broad  Street  with  the  whole  vehicle 
striped  red,  white  and  blue,  from  shaft  to  end-board  ;  but  these, 
like  the  others,  were  glorious  "  straws,"  showing  the  blowing 
and  direction  of  the  national  "  wind,"  and  in  the  days  to  come 
they  may  become  part  of  the  history  of  this  sensation  period. 
The  whole  country  was  rising,  as  the  people  of  no  land 
ever  rose  before  ;  and  the  flags  and  emblems  that  have  here 
been  recounted  were  but  the  surface  indications  of  the  sterling 
ore  of  patriotism  that  lay  beneath.  And  for  what  was  the 
rising  ?  For  a  political  polity  or  a  party  platform  ?  No  ! 
Let  not  this  fact  go  down  to  history  distorted,  many  as  have 
already  been  the  attempts  to  falsify  it.  Xor  was  the  rising 
even  for  revenge  upon  the  traitors  of  the  rebel  States,  bit- 
terly as  burned  the  sense  of  degradation  in  the  breasts  of 
loyal  men,  at  the  outrage  which  had  been  committed  on  the 
American  Flag.  It  was  not  even  for  this  that  such  men  as 
Burtnett  Haviland  groaned  most  deeply  in  the  night  hours, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  109 

when  the  horror  and  misery  of  a  coming  war  loomed  np  to 
them  ;  and  it  was  not  even  for  this  that  fchey  were  so  willing 
to  risk  all  that  they  had  before  held  most  dear,  in  the  camp 
and  in  the  field.  It  was  for  the  Union — the  very  word 
blazoned  on  the  front  of  the  drayman's  cart.  They  believed 
their  government  to  be  the  freest  and  best  on  earth — they 
believed  that  it  had  done  nothing  to  forfeit  their  respect  or 
their  allegiance — the}-  saw  it  in  danger  and  knew  that  it  must 
fall,  unless  their  hands  supported  it.  For  this  they  raised 
flags  and  wore  the  national  colors — for  this  they  rose,  held 
public  meetings,  denounced  treason,  prepared  to  fight.  For 
this — nothing  less  and  nothing  more, — they  have  fought 
throughout  the  war, — except  a  fanatic  few,  on  either  extreme, 
a  mere  fragment,  incapable  of  making  one  hair  white  or  black 
on  the  national  head,  but  for  their  fatal  power  to  hinder  and 
embarrass  others.  The  day  was  when  that  fanatic  few  scoffed 
every  man  who  dared  be  a  conservative  lover  of  his  country, 
with  the  slighting  and  sneering  epithet  of  "  doughface,"  or 
the  still  more  contemptible  cry  of  "Union  saver;"  but  it 
remains  to  be  seen  whether  the  great  lesson  has  not  already 
been  laid  to  heart  even  by  them,  and  the  tried,  steadfast, 
devoted  lovers  of  the  Union,  first,  last  and  all  the  time,  begun 
to  be  reckoned  at  their  true  worth  in  the  national  exchange  ! 
History,  not  this  romance,  must  deal  with  the  particulars 
of  the  great  national  events  and  developments  which  followed 
Sumter  closely.  The  President's  call  for  seventy-five  thou- 
sand troops,  on  Monday,  the  15th  of  April ;  the  certainty  that 
loyalty  could  not  recede,  that  treason  would  not,  and  that 
war  was  actually  inaugurated  ;  the  coming  home  of  Anderson 
and  his  brave  men  from  Sumter;  the  sad  knowledge  that  to 
carry  on  the  great  struggle  by  sea,  the  nation  had  only  twenty- 
four  antiquated  vessels,  carrying  three  hundred  and  eighty 
guns,  and  by  land  the  skeleton  of  an  army  of  less  than  ten 
thousand  men;  the  popular  gatherings  which  raised  and  voted 
moneys  so  liberally  for  the  public  defence,  and  which,  ap- 
proaching even  the  mob  spirit,  compelled  the  throwing  out 
of  reluctant  (lags  and  the  sudden  somersaults  of  men  and 
newspapers    before  considered  disloyal ;  the  issuing  by  Fer- 


110  THE       DAYS       OF       SHODDY. 

nando  Wood.  Mayor  of  New  York,  of  a  proclamation  calling 
upon  all  g  ens  to  "stand  by  the  Union  and  the  ('(in- 

stitution, "  written  perhaps  with  the  same  pen  with  which  he 

had  only  a  few  days  before  assured  the  Governor  of  G< 
that  he  was  in  favor  of  the  continued  shipment  of  arms  to  the 
seceded  States  ;  the  peril  that  was  known  to  be  gathering 
around  Baltimore  and  Washington — around  Harper's  Perry 
Armory  and  the  Norfolk  Navy  Yard  ; — these  and  a  hundred 
other  details,  otherwise  of  interest,  can  only  be  indicated — 
not  related.  Enough  to  say,  once  more,  that  the  country  was 
alive — awake — earnest — determined  ;  springing  boldly  for- 
ward to  the  contest,  however  the  image  of  a  big  man  being 
stealthily  robbed  of  his  weapons  and  having  his  hands  tied, 
from  behind,  at  the  same  moment  that  a  smaller  but  full-armed 
antagonist  was  approaching  him  in  front,  would  intrude  itself 
upon  minds  fond  of  drawing  singular  comparisons. 

It  is  perhaps  best  for  us,  often,  that  we  do  not  realize  the 
whole  truth  of  any  situation  at  once,  but  come  to  the  under- 
standing by  degrees.  There  have  been  many  lamentations 
vented,  first  and  last,  over  the  want  of  conception  of  the 
magnitude  of  the  great  contest,  at  first  so  conspicuously 
displayed,  and  the  prophecies  of  the  rebellion  being  "  ended 
in  three  months,*'  that  fell  from  prominent  lips.  This  may 
have  been  all  providential  :  the  country  was  enough  alarmed 
with  what  it  saw,  to  be  aroused  and  inspirited  ;  had  H 
all,  it  might  have  grown  terrified  and  faltered  at  the  very 
moment  when  hesitation  would  have  been  absolute  ruin. 
One  moment  of  vacillation,  and  no  future  time  could  have 
regained  the  ground  thus  surrendered  to  rebellion  and  anarchy. 
Enough  to  say,  once  more,  that  what  it  saw  it  sprung  to 
meet,  as  no  nation  ever  before  rose — as  no  nation  will 
probably  ever  find  at  once  necessity  and  spirit  to  rise  again — 
young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  male  and  female,  giving  heart, 
voice,  action,  wealth,  to  the  national  cause. 

Nor  was  the  essential  military  point,  that  of  the  enlistment 
of  soldiers  themselves,  without  which  all  the  other  prepara- 
tions could  only  have  been  a  melancholy  pretence, — at  all 
wanting  at  this  juncture  ;  and  to  that  point  a  few  more  words 
must  be  devoted.      State  militia  and  citizens  who  had  never 


T  11  E      P  A  Y.S      0  V      s  II  ')DT)Y.  11  1 

worn  a  sword  or  carried  a  gun,  competed  with  each  other  in 
the  readiness  with  which  existing  organizations  were  prepared 
for  temporary  service  and  new  ones  funned  for  "two  years 
or  the  war'' —  the  two  years  being  then  the  longest  supposa- 
ble  limit  for  which  the  struggle  could  continue.  All  the  loyal 
Slates  responded  n  >bly  to  the  call  of  the  President,  and 
readily  as  nobly.  Some  of  the  Pennsylvania  troops,  ordered 
to  rendezvous  at  Harrisburgh,  reached  that  city  even  in  ad- 
vance of  the  ordercpm'ng  to  them,  affordingtQ  Pennsylvania 
the  honor  of  furnishing  the  first  soldiers  (several  companies 
of  the  Twenty-hfth)  who  entered  tin'  national  Capital  for  its 
defence.  Pour  Massachusetts  regiments,  ordered  on  the 
afternoon  of  Monday  to  report  at  Boston,  began  arriving 
there  on  Tuesday  before  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and 
more  than  fifteen  hundred  men  were  at  the  rendezvous  before 
noon — an  instance  of  celerity  in  gathering  for  warlike  pur- 
poses,  not  often  paralleled  and  never  surpassed. 

New  York,  the  conservative  and  commercial  city,  upon  the 
friendship  or  supineness  of  which  the  Southern  leaders  had 
largely  calculated  for  the  early  success  of  the  rebellion, — 
Bobly  gave  the  lie  to  all  the  base  hopes  which  had  been 
formed  of  it,  as  did  the  State  of  which  it  formed  so  important 
a  part.  It  seemed  to  grow  into  a  great  military  recruiting; 
centre  and  place  of  warlike  preparation,  as  it  had  been  only 
the  week  before  the  great  centre  of  commercial  enterprize  and 
all  the  arts  of  peace.  Not  many  hours  elapsed  after  the 
President's  call,  before  the  hindrances  in  the  way  of  enlisting 
melted  away  and  the  difficulty  seemed  to  rest  with  those  who 
prepared  to  stay  at  home.  It  is  of  course  impossible,  at  this  dis- 
tance of  time,  to  specify  the  order  in  which  the  different  regi- 
ments of  the  New  i'ork  State  militia,  located  in  ami  near  the 
great  city,  made  their  tenders  of  service  to  the  Government. 
Enough  that  all,  not  hopelessly  out  of  service  on  account  of 
defective  drill  and  thinned  ranks,  sprang  forward  with  the 
same  alacrity.  The  tender  of  the  Seventh,  Col.  Leflerts,  the 
pet  regiment,  will  always  be  peculiarly  remarked,  because 
they  oile red  themselves  with  full  ranks  and  in  readiness  to 
march  within  twenty-four  hours,  (though  only  for  the  limited 
period  of  thirty  days),  while  others  of  the  regiments,  equally 


112  T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      SHQDDT, 

patriotic  and  equally  anxious,  needed  at  least  a  little  time  for 
preparation  for  longer  service.  Close  upon  the  heels  of  the 
Seventh  came  the  Seventy-first,  Col.  Vosburgh  ;  the  Sev- 
enty-ninth, Col.   McLcay;    the  Sixth,   Col.   Pinckneyj    the 

Fifty-fifth,  Col.  Le  Gal;  the  Sixty-ninth,  Col.  Corcoran;  the 
Twelfth,  Col.  Butterfield;  the  Eighth,  Col.  Lyons;  the 
Second,  Col.  Tompkins;  the  Fifth,  Col.  Sfchwarzwaelder 5 
the  Thirteenth,  Seventeenth,  and  Fourteenth,  of  Brooklyn, 
Cols.  Abel  Smith,  Graham  and.  Wood,  and  perhaps  others 
that  escape  hasty  recollection.  Of  these  the  Fourteenth  and 
Seventy-ninth  took  two-years  service,  the  others  enlisting  for 
the  three  months  of  the  existing  crisis. 

Volunteer  organizations  for  the  war  sprung  up  with  incredi- 
ble rapidity,  and  their  ranks  filled  with  astonishing  speed.  The 
appellations  of. almost  all  those  organizations  are  now  historic, 
as  some  of  their  brave  men  have  fallen  upon  almost  every 
battle-field  of  the  great  struggle  ;  and  the  names  of  Etaryea'a 
Fifth  Zouaves,  or  "  Advance  Guard," — of  Hawkins'  Ninth 
Zouaves,  of  McChesney's  (afterwards  Bendix's)  Tenth,  or 
"National  Zouaves,"— of  Col.  Stiles1  Ninth  X.  V.  S.  M.t 
that  afterwards  enlisted  for  the  full  term  of  service, — and  of 
fifty  or  an  hundred  regiments  out  of  the  nearly  two  hundred 
that  have  first  or  last  borne  the  honor  of  the  Empire  State  in 
their  keeping, — are  too  familiar  in  the  memories  of  readers 
of  the  current  history  of  the  war,  to  make  their  recapitula- 
tion necessary  in  a  relation  of  this  character.  Some  of  these 
have  long  since  come  home  with  thinned  ranks,  torn  banners 
and  heads  wreathed  with  the  very  halo  of  glory  ;  others 
have  fallen  under  misfortune  or  been  sacrificed  by  incapacity, 
and  are  known  no  more  in  the  army  they  once  adorned  ;  still 
others  are  yet  fighting  the  great  battle,*  under  different  com- 
mand from  that  in  which  they  first  breasted  the  iron  storm, 
and  with  different  comrades  at  their  sides,  but  with  the  same 
old  purpose  animating  their  hearts.  It  is  only  with  men  and 
events  embraced  in  the  three-months'  service,  and  with  one 
corps  that  should  have  had  a  longer  existence  than  envious 
fortune  vouchsafed  it, — that  we  are  obliged  more  peculiarly  to 
deal. 


»  September,  1883. 


T  IT  E    ' P  A  Y  >      OF      S  1 1  O  D  T)  V .  113 

That  Bingle  corps,  enlisted  for  n.  much  longer  period  than  it 
remained  in  existence,  and  embracing  material  which  should 
have  made  it  a  splendid  success  instead  of  a  signal  failure, 
was  the  First  Regiment  New  York  Fire  Zouaves,  organized 

by  an  officer  whose  abilities  seemed  to  be  entirely  wasted 
upon  it,  and  whose  fate  was  even  sadder  than  its  own.  And 
the  tie  which  binds  this  narration  more  closely  to  Ellsworth's 
Zouaves  than  to  any  other  corps  that  took  part  in  the  early 
movements  of  the  war,  is  the  fact  that  one  of  the  most  im- 
portant characters  embodied  in  it,  cast  his  lot  with  that 
regiment  of  citizen  soldiers,  for  reasons  and  under  circum- 
stances which  will  be  soon  hereafter  explained. 


CHAPTER  YI. 

sunday  morning  at  the  trayilanns' — a  domestic  scene — 
The  husband's  patriotic  resolution — The  picture  op 
Valley  Forge — The  wife's  noble  but  dangerous  re- 
sponse— Southern  and  Northern  Women  during  the 
AYar — The  story  of  Sarah  Sanderson — Burtnett  Hay- 
iland's  unknown  temptation — Church-going  and  Sati- 
nets, after  Sumter. 

That  was  a  strange,  sad  Sunday  which  dawned  upon  the 
little  household  of  Burtnett  Haviland  in  East  Forty-eighth 
Btreet,  albeit  the  sun  shoim  brightly,  and  all  the  appearances 
of  nature  were  in  harmony  with  the  advancing  season.  Poor 
Mary  Haviland,  standing  on  the  verge  of  her  first  great 
sorrow,  had  borne  as  heavy  a  weight  on  her  heart  through 
the  night,  as  the  husband  whose  coming  absence  she  mourned  ; 
and  if  no  moan  arose  from  her  lips  during  that  troubled 
slumber  which  preceded  the  dawn,  while  the  hardier  and 
stronger  man  was  wrestling  with  fate  in  his  sleep,  it  was 
b-.dily  habit  and  not  absence  of  tortured  feeling  which  gave 
the  restraint  Half  asleep  and  half  awake,  as  the  morning 
7 


114  THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

broke,  she  dreamed  that  her  husband  was  gone — that  a  hnsre 
black  figure,  whose  features  she  could  not   see  for  a  den-.-, 

dark  veil,  but  which  seemed  to  have  a  hand  nearly  as  large 
as  a  human  body,  had  snatched  him  away  from  her,  in  spite 
of  her  outstretched  arms  and  her  piteous  entreaties,  and 
dashed  him  clown  a  precipice  that  she  could  not  even  fathom 
with  her  eyes.  She  rushed  towards  the  verge  to  follow 
him — then  shuddered  and  drew  back  in  mortal  fear — then 
awoke  with  a  sharp  scream,  which  broke  other  slumbers  thao 
her  own.  Little  JYt  (who  was  seldom  designated  by  any 
other  appellation,  though  she  bore  the  sweet  Dame  of  Louise) 
bad  been  fighting  sleep  with  her  tiny  fists  and  rounded  arms 
for  at  least  half  an  hour,  trying  unavailingly  to  open  her  eyes, 
and  bruising  her  diminutive  nose  in  her  pugilistic  operations, 
when  the  waking  cry  of  her  mother  completed  the  exorcism 
of  the  spirit  of  slumber.  One  bound  out  of  her  little  crib, 
and  a  pair  of  chubby  legs  were  flying  over  the  side  of  the 
bed,  with  the  white  clothing  wofully  deranged,  and  the  two 
parents  nearly  pulling  her  apart  in  a  playful  squabble  for  the 
first  kiss  of  the  little  brown-curled  darling. 

"  I  fight  'oo  !"  said  the  spoiled  little  beauty,  doing  honor  to 
the  bad  instructions  of  Sarah,  (the  servant-girl.)  or  some  of 
their  visitors,  taking  the  part  of  her  mother  in  the  contest, 
doubling  her  ponderous  fists  and  squaring  away  at  her  father 
from  the  pillow. 

The  father  laughed,  as  we  almost  always  laugh  at  a  certain 
jwoportion  of  the  Amazon  in  the  softer  sex,  whether  they  be 
three  years  old  or  several  times  that  age.  But  Mary  Havi- 
land  did  not  laugh.  Something  in  the  child's  words  had 
jarred  her  already  over-wrought  feelings.  Though  uttered 
in  play  and  in  perfect  unconsciousness,  why  must  that  word 
"fight"  have  come  between  herself  and  her  husband,  at  that 
moment  of  all  the  moments  in  their  lives  ?  The  husband 
saw  the  shadow  on  her  face,  and  understood  it  but  too  well. 

"  There,  Pet,  take  this  bunch  of  keys,"  reaching  over  to  his 
pocket  and  getting  them  at  the  same  time,  "  get  into  your 
little  bed  again  and  play  with  them  until  mamma  gets  up." 
Then  to  his  wife,  as  the  little  one  slid  away  and  tumbled 
again  into  the  crib  to  enjoy  her  new  possession  of  jingling 


THE      DAYS      OF      SnODDY,  115 

iron  and  brass  :  "What  is  it,  little  woman?  And  what  did 
yon  scream  about,  a  little  while  ago  V1 

'•  You  know,  Burtey  IV  answered  the  wife,  nestling  close  to 
him  and  laying  tier  bead  en  his  breast.  "You  know,  for  T 
beard  you  talking-  in  your  sleep  more  than  twenty  times 
during  the  night.  You  have  been  thinking  that  we  were  to 
be  separated,  and  so  have  I.  But,  oh,  Burtey,  1  hope  you 
have  not  been  dreaming  as  I  have  done  !  Did  I  wake  up 
with  a  scream  ?  Well,  it  is  no  wonder,  for  I  dreamed  that  I 
saw  a  great  black  hand  eatch  you — that  I  screamed  and  tried 
to  hold  yon  back — but  that  it  dashed  you  over  a  deep,  dark 
gulf;  and  I  was  thinking  of  throwing  myself  over  after  you, 
and  yet  afraid  to  do  it,  when  I  woke — screaming,  I  suppose." 

"  Poor  little  wife  !  Rough  dreams  indeed  !"  said  the  hus- 
band. "But  you  see  no  black  hand  has  thrown  me  over  the 
precipice,  in  reality.  So  your  dream  is  false  and  there  is 
nothing  to  scream  about." 

"Nothing  yet!"  answered  the  wife.  "But  the  future, 
Burtey — the  dark,  sad  future  I" 

"Mary,"  said  the  husband,  very  gravely  and  yet  very 
tenderly,  caressing  the  head  that  nestled  near  him  the  while. 
"  You  understood  me  last  night,  I  know.  I  saw  that  you 
did,  and  tried  not  to  spoil  your  night's  rest  by  saying  more. 
There  will  be — there  must  be — a  call  for  troops.  I  do  not 
know  when  it  may  come,  but  it  should  come  at  once.  That 
call  must  be  met,  and  met  the  very  moment  that  it  is  given. 
The  response  must  come  from  the  people.  If  the  land  is  to 
be  saved,  it  must  be  saved  by  those  who  have  hearts  to  know 
and  feel  its  peril,  and  who  have  joys  and  comforts  that  they 
can  resign  in  its  behalf.  Nothing  less  than  such  a  sacrifice 
can  be  accepted  by  the  God  of  Nations.  I  know  and  feel  it. 
The  rich  who  can  buy  commissions  and  play  soldier — the 
very  poor  who  have  nothing  to  leave  and  are  bettered  rather 
than  worsted  by  going  into  a  soldier's  life — neither  of  these 
have  any  thing  to  sacrifice  ;  and  they  will  be  Cains,  not 
Abels,  in  the  dark  day.  It  is  such  as  myself,  who  have 
every  thing  to  lose  and  nothing  to  gain  by  fighting  for  the 
country,  who  must  save  the  land  or  it  will  perish." 

The  beautiful  eyes  jf  his  young  wife  looked  up  at  him  as 


116  THE      PAYS      OF      SnOPBY. 

he  lay.  There  wore  tears  in  them,  but  there  was  no  dissent 
from  the  words  be  was  Baying,  and  the  head  even  sadly  nod- 
ded its  acquiescence. 

"Stop,"  said  the  husband.  "  Little  woman,  you  always 
will  insist  upon  lying  in  the  front  of  the  bed,  out  of  some 
nonsensical  excuse  about  'seeing  to  Pet.'  Xow  pay  for  it. 
Get  up,  that  is  a  good  soul,  and  bring  me  that  red-covered 
History  of  the  Revolution  from  the  top-shelf  of  the  book-case 
in  the  other  room." 

Mary  Haviland  had  never  yet  learned  the  peculiar  horror 
which  belongs  to  the  nineteenth  century,  against  that  phrase 
•n  the  marriage-service  which  speaks  of  a  wife  "obeying"  bet 
husband.  She  rather  enjoyed,  than  otherwise,  a  requirement 
from  his  lips  which  she  could  properly  fulfil,  with  the  pleasant 
feeling  it  brought  that  she  was  adding  a  little  to  the  obligation 
under  which  he  rested  to  treat  her  kindly  and  love  her  dearly. 
She  was  not  strong-minded,  and  the  necessity  of  apologizing 
for  her  in  this  place  is  submitted  to  as  well  as  acknowledged. 
The  conversation  of  a  few  friends  of  the  proper  cerulean  hue, 
or  a  little  experience  at  those  notable  conventions  in  which  it 
is  demonstrated  that  maternity  has  somehow  been  transferred 
to  the  opposite  sex  from  that  for  which  it  was  originally  in- 
tended,— might  have  made  her  wiser,  given  her  a  proper  idea 
of  her  own  dignity  as  a  wife — enabled  her  to  accept  all  the 
kind  offices  which  her  husband  chose  to  tender  her,  without 
doing  any  in  return — and  kept  her  from  the  gross  impropriety 
which  she  committed  on  this  occasion.  Xot  knowing  any 
better,  Mary  Haviland  actually  obeyed  her  husband  when  he 
asked  her  for  the  book  !  Her  little  bare  white  feet  went  pat- 
ting on  the  carpet,  and  her  white  night  deshabille  fluttered 
lovingly  round  the  dainty  limbs  that  it  somewhat  saucily  ex- 
posed, as  she  ran  out  into  the  parlor,  procured  the  red-covered 
volume  that  he  desired,  and  tripped  back  again  into  the  bed- 
room. There  she  flung  the  book  at  him,  with  a  ferocity  which 
might  have  damaged  some  unfortunate  fly  happening  between 
'X  and  her  husband's  body  ;  crept  back  into  bed  (it  was  Sun- 
day morning,  early,  and  no  time  at  which  either  needed  to  use 
remarkable  diligence) ;  nestled  a  little  closer  than  before,  beside 
him,  on  account  of  the  chill  of  her  short  excursion  ;  and  pre- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  117 

pared  to  listen  to  what  the  red-covered   hook  might  have  to 
sav  on  the  duties  which  men  owed  to  their  country  in  all  tfges, 

and  those  which  they  paid  without  a  murmur  in  those  first 
tines  of  the  free  Land  of  the  West  which  "tried  men's  souls." 
It  was  only  a  picture  to  which  he  was  about  to  call  her 
attention — only  a  picture  at  which  she  glanced  as  the  rising 
sunshine  peeped  in  at  the  blinds.  Only  a  picture,  and  yet  it 
t-dd  more  than  volumes  of  words  could  have  done,  of  the 
patriot  duty  of  that  time,  seen  in  the  light  of  days  gone  by. 
The  scene  was  evidently  Valley  Forge  in  that  terrible  Winter 
of  1778,  which  has  since  made  so  many  hearts  bleed  even  as 
the  feet  of  the  poor  soldiers  of  liberty  were  then  bleeding. 
A  winter  of  deep  snows  and  piercing  winds,  with  the  Ameri- 
can army  wTcll-nigh  discouraged,  sore  present  privations  added 
t<>  past  defeat,  and  only  the  presence  of  the  master  mind  and 
the  master  hand  sufficient  to  prevent  total  despondency.  A 
miserable  hut  stood  in  the  foreground,  its  roof  half  disman- 
tled, its  clapboards  broken,  its  chimney  gone,  and  a  wreath 
of  thin  smoke  creeping  out  from  between  the  shivered  shingles 
of  the  roof,  to  denote  that  some  poor  apology  for  a  fire  was 
burning  within.  Night  was  coming,  as  denoted  by  the  sun 
setting  behind  masses  of  cold,  heavy  clouds.  The  snow  lay 
thick  upon  the  ground,  showing  tracks  of  men  and  horses 
hither  and  thither, — almost  covering  a  fence  to  the  right,  to 
show  the  depth  to  which  it  had  fallen.  Behind  lay  the  dark, 
sombre  woods,  the  position  of  the  branches  of  the  nearest 
trees  indicating  that  they  were  writhing  and  groaning  in  a 
fierce  winter  wind.  By  the  door  of  the  hut  stood  the  Father 
of  his  Country,  pale,  sorrowful  but  determined,  and  his  hat 
removed  in  evident  deference  to  the  condition  of  those  before 
him.  Two  soldiers  were  just  shouldering  their  muskets  to  go 
upon  guard,  as  could  be  seen  Irv  the  gesture  of  the  General, 
pointing  up  a  bleak  hill  to  the  left.  And  oh,  what  figures  for 
a  guard,  on  a  sharp  winter  night !  One  had  the  cocked  hat 
of  the  continental  service,  with  the  side  broken  and  the  hair 
coming  out  at  the  crown  ;  the  other  wore  what  remained  of 
an  officer's  chapeau,  all  bruised  and  battered  and  the  ends 
drawn  to  the  head  with  loops  of  twine.  Both  were  in  tatters, 
at  elbows,  knees,  and  the  bottoms  of  their  frayed  and  worn 


118  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

trousers — a  very  mockery  of  clothing,  for  the  bitter  weather 
that  surrounded  them.  One  wore  two  boots,  the  one  nearly 
perfect  but  the  other  with  the  end  entirely  gone  and  the  bared 
toes  kissing-  the  snow.  The  second,  one  shoe,  dilapidated  and 
lashed  at  the  ancle  with  thick  strings,  and  the  other  foot  only 
covered  with  a  coarse  cloth  that  seemed  to  have  been  tied 
apound  it  in  the  same  manner.  Behind  the  two  was  an  or- 
derly, apparently  in  attendance  on  the  General — but  little  bet- 
ter clothed  than  his  companions,  and  his  thin  face  and  sunken 
ey<  -  -bowing  the  sad  effects  of  cold  and  privation,  while  his 
attitude  was  so  palpably  shivering  that  the  gazer  could  not 
well  look  upon  it  without  experiencing  a  similar  feeling.  A 
most  cheerless  and  melancholy  picture,  and  yet  one  that  had 
been  executed  by  a  powerful  hand,  and  bearing  the  very  im- 
6f  the  time  treated  of.  It  must  have  been  a  cold  and 
unpatriotic  eye  that  could  look  upon  the  scene  unmoved,  and 
no  such  eye  was  gazing  upon  it  on  that  Sunday  morning. 
The  husband,  who  had  studied  it  often  and  never  without  a 
painful  swelling  in  the  throat,  turned  his  gaze  upon  his  wife 
when  she  had  been  regarding  it  for  several  minutes  in  silence, 
and  saw  that  there  were  tears  trembling  on  her  eye-lids.  Far 
down  through  the  years,  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  century 
after  the  suffering  of  Valley  Forge  had  been  endured,  one  of 
the  patriotic  women  of  America  was  paying  a  weeping  tribute 
to  the  bravery  and  devotion  of  her  forefathers ;  and  the  hus- 
band was  sadly  content  with  what  he  saw. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  what  the  men  of  the  Revolution  en- 
dured. I  have  looked  at  this  picture  often  during  the  past 
year,  when  men  have  been  loud  in  their  professions  of  devo- 
tion to  the  country,  and  I  have  wondered  how  many  could  have 
endured  Yalley  Forge.  I  wonder,  now,  how  many  can  go 
through  one  tithe  of  the  same  suffering.  But  thousands  must 
do  so,  or  we  have  no  country.  There  must  be  lonely  homes, 
widowed  wives,  orphaned  children,  or  we  must  sink  down  to 
be  a  scoff  and  a  bye-word  among  nations.  I  ask  you,  Mary,  if 
I  have  a  right  to  hold  my  home,  my  comfort  and  even  my 
life,  so  dear  as  to  shrink  back  from  the  trial  ?" 

For  a  moment  Mary  Haviland  did  not  answer.  Her  heart 
was  quite  as  full  as  her  eyes  ;  for  the  picture,  while  speaking 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  119 

of  duty,  had  at  the  same  time  spoken  of  the  inevitable  hard- 
ships of  the  soldier's  life,  and  it  was  something  terrible  to 
feel  that  her  arms  were  to  be  exchanged  for  the  cold  bed  of 
the  bivouac  and  perhaps  for  the  still  colder  embrace  of  death. 
For  the  instant  her  husband  believed  that  she  faltered;  and 
his  voice  was  low  and  broken  with  deep  feeling  as  he 
partially  repeated  his  last  words  : 

"  Mary,  my  own  wife,  I  ask  you  if  T  have  a  right  to  hold 
you,  my  home,  my  life,  dearer  than  my  duty  to  my  country  V 

"  No  I"  said  the  wife  determinedly  rising  from  the  pillow 
and  looking  him  steadily  in  the  face — that  morning  pillow  on 
which  a  great  many  conversations  take  place,  in  different 
regions  of  this  round  World,  while  very  few  find  a  chronicler. 
"  No  !  go  and  do  your  duty  !"  and  there  was  not  the  suspicion 
of  a  tear  in  the  wife's  eyes,  now,  and  not  a  tremor  in  her 
voice.  With  one  more  struggle,  just  past,  she  had  determined 
to  give  her  husband  up  to  his  country,  as  her  part  of  the 
great  sacrifice  ;  and  she  rightly  believed  that  if  she  did  so  at 
all,  she  should  do  so  with  cheerfulness  and  even  with  pride, 
cheering  him  for  his  duty  instead  of  weakening  him  by  tears 
ami  womanly  wailings  over  their  separation.  Thenceforth, 
the  little  woman  said  to  herself — (and  she  had  a  habit,  weak 
and  gentle  woman  that  she  was,  when  fully  aroused  to  her 
duty,  of  doing  the  thing  upon  which  she  had  resolved) — if  she 
could  avoid  such  an  exhibition  by  any  effort  of  the  will,  he 
should  not  see  another  tear  trickling  down  her  cheeks  or 
even  standing  in  her  eyes.  She  would  be  content,  happy, 
even  merry,  in  his  presence,  helping  him  away,  when  the 
time  should  come,  as  if  he  was  only  going  on  some  pleasure- 
party  that  would  keep  him  a  while  from  her  society  ;  and.  if  the 
tears  xcould  come  sometimes,  to  take  their  revenge  in  floods, 
and  if  the  overwhelming  feeling  would  break  out  sometimes 
in  sobs  and  wailings  over  her  great  sorrow,  she  would  see  to 
it  that  no  such  manifestation  was  made  in  his  presence,  to 
give  him  a  sadder  image  of  her,  which  he  must  carry  in  the 
faithful  mirror  of  his  heart  while  in  the  tedious  camp,  or  to 
unnerve  his  hand  in  the  day  when  all  his  manhood  might  be 
required  of  him  in  battle. 

These  women  of  America — these  wives,  and  mothers,  and 


120  T  HE       i>  A  V  S       UF       tJliUUDY. 

sisters,   and    sweethearts, — have  had   much  to  do  with   the 
varying  tide   of  fortune  in  the  War  for  the   Union.     They 
scarcely  know  the  fact  themselves,  hut  they  have  held  in  theft 
hands  the   balance   of  our  success  or  failure,  as  woman  has 
done,  in  every  civilized  age  and  country,  when  motives  were 
to  be  sought  as  a  means  of  strength.     If  from  the  fields  of 
the  rebel  South  have   sprung  forth  so  many  men  to  be  their 
defenders  that  they  have  seemed  to  embrace  more  than  the 
entire  population,  the  secret  of  the  Cadmus  crops   of  armed 
men  has  been   found  more  in  the  fierce  rebellious  patriotism 
of  the  women  of  their  households,  than  even  in  the  public 
need  and  the  forced  conscriptions.     The  women  of  the  rebel 
States  espoused  the  war  from  the  beginning — made  it  theirs, 
gave  their  personal  services  (honorably  and  dishonorably), 
and  literally  drove  into  the  ranks  thousands  upon  thousands 
who  might  otherwise  have  yielded  to  supineness,  luxury  or 
cowardice.     "  Xo    bridal   ring   for   me,   until  we    have  suc- 
ceeded !"  has  been   the  cry  of   the  expectant  bride  ;    "  Xo 
stay-at-home  lounger  or  coward  for  my  son  !"  has  been  the 
echoing  cry  of  the  mother ;  while  the  wife  has  severed  the 
yet  dearer  tie  with  the  words  "  Xo  rest  in  my  arms  for  the 
man  who  will  not  help  to  drive  back  the  Yankee  invader !" 
Female  circles,  in  the  leading  cities  of  the  Confederacy,  have 
made  solemn  leagues,  and  kept  them,  to  countenance  no  able- 
bodied  man  who   remained  at  home  when  what  they  called 
the  " country"  demanded  his  service;    sneers,    threats   and 
implorings   have  joined   in   making   a   force   of   compelling 
power  well  nigh  resistless ;  sisters  have  morally  as  well   as 
literally  buckled  on  the  swords  and  strapped  the  knapsacks 
of  their  brothers,  and  urged  them  off  to  the  field  ;  and,  these 
things  done,  the  women  of  the  rebel   South  have  gone  one 
step  further  and  become  spies,  decoys  and  daring  midnight 
riders,  to  entrap  unwary  Union  officers  or  bring  destruction  on 
.  bewildered  Union  forces  fighting  their  way  through  darkness 
and  treacherous  swamps  and  unknown  roads.     Evil  energy, 
no  doubt,  and  energy  expended  in  a  bad  cause.     The  edito- 
rial copperhead  may  find  but  few  sympathizers  in  his  wailings 
over  the  treatment  .of  "Belle  Boyd,  of  Alartinsburg,  in  the  Old 
Capitol  Prison,  while  she  was  hissing  out  "My  Maryland," 


T  II  E      J)  A  Y  S      U  F      S  II  O  1)  D  Y.  121 

with  the  veiy  venom  of  the  secession  serpent ;  and  the 
women  of  the  North  may  well  draw  back  with  a  shudder 
from  the  emulation  of  such  females  as  those  who  held 
Stoughton.'s  head  in  their  laps  while  fcheii?  messengers  were 
spurring  in  hot  haste  for  troops  to  effect  his  capture.  But 
even  the  last  was  no  worse  a  breach  of  hospitality  than  the 
driving  of  the  nail  into  the  head  of  Sisera  by  the  Scriptural 
■lael  ;  and  there  comes  up  to  mind,  whenever  real  or 
apparent  degradation  is  submitted  to  by  woman  for  the  sake 
of  what  she  holds  to  be  patriotism,  the  dark  and  fearful 
image  of  Judith,  warm  from  the  caresses  of  Holofernes,  sitting 
on  the  side  of  his  couch,  with  her  night-robes  dishevelled, 
her  white  arms  gleaming  ghastly  in  the  light  of  the  cresset 
from  the  recess,  and  her  wild  eyes  glittering  with  baleful 
fires,  as  she  warily  draws  from  its  scabbard  at  the  side  of  the 
sleeping  man  the  steel  which  is  in  another  moment  to  make 
but  a  headless  trunk  of  the  warrior  flushed  as  much  with  his 
victory  over  her  as  over  the  land  he  had  been  conquering. 
And  as  we  think  with  shuddering  admiration  of  the  woman 
of  old,  there  is  at  least  a  shadow  of  excuse,  if  no  admiration, 
for  the  subtle,  active,  dangerous  female  fiend  of  the  secession. 
The  very  opposite  has  been  the  action  of  the  women  of  the 
North.  Partially,  perhaps,  because  the  foot  of  the  invader 
has  not  been  treading  at  their  doors — because  the  mission  on 
which  their  husbands,  brothers  and  lovers  went  forth  seemed 
rather  to  attack  than  to  defend  (while  in  truth  the  whole  duty 
of  the  Union  army  has  been  to  defend,  not  a  mere  section  of 
country,  but  a  whole  broad  land,  a  Union  and  a  Constitu- 
tion),— partially  from  this  seeming,  no  doubt,  but  much  more 
from  the  peculiarities  of  their  lives  and  education,  they  have 
taken  no  such  stand  as  their  whilome  sisters  of  the  rebel 
South.  Except  in  the  gentle  and  womanly  task  of  ministering 
to  sickness  and  relieving  suffering,  they  have  seemed  to  take 
no  part  whatever  in  the  struggle.  They  have  leagued  to- 
gether, at  times,  for  the  most  meritorious  purposes,  but  it  was 
to  prepare  lint  and  bandages  for  the  wounded,  or  delicacies 
to  send  to  those  hospitals  where  our  disabled  soldiers  were 
lying.  And  it  is  not  certain  that  their  ghastly  preparations 
for  the  surgeon's  aid,  exhibited  in  crowded  cities  and  trump- 


122  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

eted  through  the  newspapers,  have  not  sometimes  cost  us 
more  in  the  way  of  frightening  away  enlistments,  than  they 
have  saved  us  in  lives  and  convalescence.     A  few  of  them 

(to  whom  be  all  honor  and  praise  !)  have  left  happy  homes  to 
become  ministering  angels  after  the  battle-field  and  in  the 
sick  hospital;  and  here  and  there  one  has  been  possessed  of 
the  spirit  of  Joan  of  Arc,  the  Maid  of  Saragossa  or  Moll 
ritcher,  changed  sex  for  the  time  and  carried  the  sword  or 
the  musket.  And  a  few  have  done  like  Mary  Ilaviland — 
buried  deep  in  their  hearts  whatever  of  sorrow  they  ielt  at 
giving  up  those  they  loved  to  absence,  hardship  and  probably 
death,  and  speeded  them  away  with  cheerful  words  and 
smiling  faces.  But  beyond  this  they  have  never  gone.  N'o 
circle  of  society  has  been  closed  against  the  man  who  had 
youth,  health,  competence  for  his  family,  physical  endurance, 
and  every  obligation  as  well  as  inducement  for  becoming  a 
patriot  soldier,  and  yet  who  ignobly  remained  at  home  when 
the  existence  of  the  republic  seemed  hanging  upon  his  action. 
They  have  had  no  public  word  of  reprobation  for  the  mock 
soldier  who  assumed  the  uniform  of  his  country's  service  and 
then  basely  absented  himself  from  the  field.  They  have  had 
no  frowns,  they  have  not  even  withdrawn  their  smiles,  for 
those  who  every  day  proved  themselves  to  be  drones  or  cow- 
ards. They  have  paid  that  homage  which  woman  all  the 
world  over  pays  to  the  epauletted  shoulder,  without  stopping 
to  inquire  whether  that  shoulder  bore  any  of  the  weight  of 
the  country's  destiny.  The  women  of  the  loyal  North,  in  a 
word,  have  with  but  few  exceptions  failed  to  make  the  War 
for  the  Union  a  personal  interest,  and  left  it  to  be  the  war  of 
the  men  alone ;  and  the  result  has  been  seen  in  a  supineness 
and  an  eventual  fading  out  of  the  war-spirit,  which  is  inevi- 
table when  woman  fails  to  throw  her  love,  her  scorn  and  all 
her  influence,  into  the  scale  of  patriotism. 

It  has  been  said  that  Mary  Ilaviland,  though  she  had  no 
more  idea  of  playing  the  heroine  than  had  her  husband  of  be- 
coming a  hero — though  she  was  only  moved,  like  him,  hj  a 
sense  of  duty, — resolved  that  she,  for  one,  would  play  the 
Spartan  part  and  send  away  the  pride  and  hope  of  her  life 
with  a  smile.     What  it  cost  her  to  make  and  keep  this  reso- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  123 

lution,  is  among  the  secrets  nol  yet  to  be  made  known.  And 
certain  it  is,  that  had  she  known  what  that  very  appearance 
of  culm  resignation  was  eventually  to  cost  her,  she  would 
have  been  far  from  making  the  effort.  But  this,  again,  antici- 
pates what  only  the  future  should  reveal.  Enough  to  say 
that  half  an  hour  after  the  close  of  the  conversation  we  have 
recorded,  the  young  wife  was  moving  about  her  household 
avocations,  while  Sarah  was  making  a  tremendous  clatter 
with  the  breakfast  dishes,  and  Ilaviland  sat  with  little  Louise 
on  his  lap,  frolicking  with  her  after  the  manner  of  a  groat 
school-boy,  and  giving  no  more  indication  than  his  wife  that 
h«  did  not  expect  to  remain  quietly  at  home  for  the  next  de- 
cade. 

But  here  it  becomes  necessary  to  say  a  word  of  the  "neat- 
handed  Phyllis"  who  prepared  the  breakfast  for  the  Havi- 
lnnds,  and  who  may  be  found  to  have  more  connection  with 
this  series  of  actual  events  than  her  two  dollars  per  week 
seemed  to  warrant.  Sarah  was  not  in  the  desolate  condition 
of  poor  Tim,  as  to  patronymic.  She  had  a  second  name,  and 
that  name,  alliteratively  enough,  was  Sanderson.  Nor  was 
she  one  of  those  waifs  who  float  into  service  anywhere  and 
everywhere,  unknown  and  uncared  for.  When  Mary  How- 
land,  now  Mary  Haviland,  had  been  a  young  girl  in  the  little 
village  of  Duffsboro,  and  when  Burtnett  Haviland,  himself  a 
native  and  resident  of  the  same  rural  paradise,  had  been  com- 
mencing his  mercantile  career  as  a  clerk  in  the  leading  '•'  stdTe  " 
of  that  village — Sarah  Sanderson,  the  pretty  daughter  of  a 
poor  and  proud  widow,  had  also  been  living  in  a  small  house 
in  the  neighborhood,  not  too  well  educated  or  too  useful,  but 
with  ideas  above  her  station  and  some  danger  of  falling  into 
the  temptations  so  plentifully  spread  about  her  by  the  unscru- 
pulous. Two  years  after  Mary  Haviland's  marriage,  and 
when  with  her  husband  she  had  become  a  resident  of  the  great 
city,  after  losing  every  one  of  her  blood-relatives  by  death  or 
removal  to  the  Pacific  shore, — on  one  of  her  visits  to  her  old 
homo  she  had  found  the  widow  Sanderson  doad.  Sarah  penni- 
less, helpless  and  without  a  home,  and  the  perils  of  her  situa- 
tion inevitably  thickening.  She  had  taken  compassion  upon 
her,  at  the  same  time  that  she  had  been  glad  of  the  opportu- 


12-1  THE       DAYS      OF      8  II  U  D  J)  Y. 

nitv  of  securing  "help"  in  her  little  bouse  without  introdu  *in^ 
a  stranger, — had  induced  Sarah  to  accompany  her  to  the  citv, 
taught  her  what  she  lacked  in  tlie  knowledge  of  house-keep4 
ing,  and  though  employing  her  as  a  servant,  treated  her  much 
more  as  a  member  of  her  own  family  than  as  one  holding  that 
relation. 

Not  much  to  the  young  wife's  surprise,  she  had  found  the 
girl  captious,  proud  and  difficult  to  manage — at  least  for  a 
time.  Her  propensity  for  the  street  had  been  among  the 
most  difficult  things  to  conquer,  and  left  to  herself  the  young 
girl  would  assuredly  have  gone  to  ruin  within  a  twelve-month. 
Gradually  she  had  improved  in  conduct  as  in  capacity,  as  she 
could  not  well  fail  to  do  under  the  kind  treatment  received 
from  both  husband  and  wife  ;  and  though  still  at  times  unac- 
countably captious  and  sullen,  and  with  an  occasional  pro- 
pensity for  handling  the  table  service  as  if  it  had  been  some 
living  thing  and  she  hated  it,  Mary  Haviland  had  grown  to 
consider  her  honest,  reliable  and  valuable.  That  very  morn- 
ing the  young  wife  had  been  thinking,  while  musing  upon  the 
probable  coming  absence  of  her  husband,  that  she  would  not 
even  then  be  entirely  alone,  without  any  one  near  who  knew 
him  and  understood  her — that  Sarah  would  be  with  her  still, 
and  that  Sarah,  then,  would  be  almost  like  a  near  relative,  in 
the  place  she  would  fill  in  the  household. 

It  was  not  the  privilege  of  the  young  wife  to  look  quite  so 
clearly  into  the  hearts  of  those  surrounding  her,  as  may  lie 
done  here,  under  the  Asmodean  power  of  the  romancer.  Had 
she  been  able  to  do  so,  she  might  have  formed  a  somewhat 
novel  and  startling  opinion  of  the  character  of  her  "help," 
and  of  the  companion  upon  whom  she  would  be  obliged  to 
depend  so  much  during  the  absence  of  her  husband.  For  the 
better  understanding  of  what  is  soon  to  follow,  it  is  necessary 
that  no  mystery  shall  here  remain  as  to  the  character  of  the 
almost  flaxen-haired,  gray-eyed,  handsome,  childish-faced  and 
petite  figured  girl  of  twenty-two  or  thereabouts,  who  was  on 
that  Sunday  morning  making  so  terrible  a  clatter  among  the 
breakfast  dishes. 

As  before  indicated,  Haviland  had  been  a  country  shop 
clerk  before  coming  to  the  great   city.     How  much  of  ac- 


THE      DAYS      OF      S  IT  O  J)  D  Y.  125 

qua  in  tan  ce  and  even  of  familiarity  with  all  classes  such  a 
situation  involves,  is  well  known  to  all  who  have  had  the  op- 
portunity for  observation.  Business  is  not  transacted  imper- 
sonally, there,  as  on  Broadway  or  Chestnut  Street,  The 
shop-keeper  knows  nearly  every  one  who  sets  foot  within  his 
building,  and  nearly  every  one  correspondingly  well  knows 
the  shop-keeper  and  especially  the  shop-keeper's  clerk.  With 
the  latter,  particularly,  customers  who  come  very  often,  become 
pleasantly  familiar.  If  the  clerk  is  reasonably  good-looking 
(courteous  he  must  be),  the  younger  female  portion  of  his 
regular  visitors  get  to  know  him  very  well  indeed,  the  more 
certainly  because  his  stock  is  very  miscellaneous,  and  there 
are  sometimes  little  jars  of  toothsome  bon-bons  on  one  side 
of  the  shop,  while  occasionally  a  remnant  of  ribbon,  too  short 
to  sell  to  advantage,  may  chance  to  be  given  away  on  the 
other. 

Burtnett  Haviland  had  never  been  a  "  scamp,"  as  the 
phrase  is.  Had  he  been,  he  would  never  have  made  the 
loving  and  excellent  husband  who  has  been  in  the  mind's-eyo 
of  the  writer  all  this  while;  for  "reformed  rakes"  do  not 
"make  the  best  husbands,"  and  every  vice  of  youth  scars  the 
moral  nature  as  sadly  as  an  ugly  wound  disfigures  the  physi- 
cal. Yet  the  good-looking  clerk  had  chucked  girls  under  the 
chin,  occasionally,  when  filling  that  chrysalis  position  in  mer- 
cantile life — had  even,  beyond  doubt,  occasionally  stolen  half 
a  dozen  kisses  from  a  peachy  cheek,  in  forced  or  permitted 
exchange  for  a  handful  of  bon-bons.  He  had  done  so,  perhaps 
more  than  once,  with  the  pretty  and  spoiled  little  daughter  of 
widow  Sanderson.  There  had  been  the  beginning  and  end  of 
his  imprudence  in  that  regard  ;  and  of  late  years  marriage, 
lviijoval,  and  the  whirl  of  city  life  and  business,  had  so  filled 
his  mind  with  other  things  that  it  is  doubtful  whether  he  even 
remembered,  when  the  little  girl  came  to  fill  a  place  in  his 
house  as  a  servant,  that  such  an  event  had  ever  occurred. 
Something  else,  too,  he  had  probably  forgotten,  which  she  had 
not  permitted  to  pass  away  so  easily.  One  night,  at  the  same 
period  of  his  life,  the  young  girl  had  been  caught  at  the  store 
in  a  heavy  thunder-storm,  no  one  being  present  in  the  build- 
ing but  themselves.     She  had  been  terribly  frightened  and 


126  T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      S  H  O  I)  D  T. 

disposed  to  scream,  and  he  had  very  innocently  put  his  arm 
around  her,  and  held  the  little  fluttering  heart  near  hia  own—/ 
a  most  dangerous  and  improper  position,  by  the  way,  even  in 
thunder-storms,  unless  they  are  very  heavy,  and  the  people 

as  near  relatives  as  brother  and  sister.  After  the  thunder- 
storm, in  that  instance,  it  being  night,  and  his  employer 
coming  in,  the  clerk  had  accompanied  his  protege  home  and 
■left  hi  r  at  her  mother's  door. 

These  little  incidents  may  have  been  known  to  Mary  Havi 
laud,  or  they  may  have  escaped  her  knowledge  altogether 
Her  husband,  who  believed  that  the  marriage  tie  should  be  a 
real  one,  with  thorough  confidence,  would  at  all  events  have 
told  them  to  her  at  any  moment,  if  he  had  happened  to  think 
of  them  as  worth  telling.  They  were  nothings  to  him.  and 
would  be  the  merest  trifles  to  her.  But  not  so  to  the  young 
girl,  whose  whole  existence  seemed  to  have  been  affected  by 
them.  Though  not  a  living  person  upon  earth,  besides  her- 
self, had  ever  dreamed  of  the  fact,  she  had  loved  Burtnett 
Haviland  with  the  best  love  of  her  warped,  perverted  nature, 
from  the  days  when  he  gave  her  bon-bons  and  stole  a  kiss 
from  her  cheek  in  the  country-store.  From  the  night  when 
ie  held  her  in  his  arms  and  seemed  to  shelter  her  from  the 
thunder,  that  love  had  become  mad  and  ungovernable  within, 
however  it  had  left  no  mark  without.  From  the  hour  when 
he  accompanied  her  home,  she  had  entertained  a  sort  of  dim 
impression  that  he  was  her  "beau" — a  country  phrase  almost 
ignored  in  the  city,  which  may  mean  every  thing  or  nothing. 
She  had  considered  herself,  ignorant  and  uncultivated  as  she 
was,  quite  the  equal  of  the  young  clerk,  and  believed  that 
some  day,  away  off  in  the  future,  when  he  married,  he  would 
marry  her.  YUien  she  heard  of  his  marriage  engagement, 
she  had  sulked.  When  he  married,  after  passing  away  from 
her  sight  for  many  months,  and  really  quite  forgetting  that 
there  was  such  a  person  as  the  little  flaxen-haired  girl  in 
existence, — she  had  sulked  still  more,  and  the  wicked  devil  in 
her  heart  had  risen  up  to  hate  Mary  Haviland,  his  wife — to 
wish  her  all  ill — to  wish  that  she  was  dead  ! 

Then  had  come  the  death  of  her  mother — the  period  of  her 
own  helpless  dependence — and  the  offer  of  Mary  Haviland  to 


THE      PAYS      OF      SkODDY.  127 

take  her  into  her  own  house  as  companion  mora  than  servant. 
And  kbia  was  the  person  to  whom  the  young  wife,  in  the  in- 
nocent goodness  of  her  own  heart,  had  made  the  offer!     She 

would  have  refused  it  instantly,  preferring  liberty  with  the 
chance  of  any  vice  or  crime  that  it  might  bring,  but  that  it 
offered  her  the  chance  of  being  near  the  man  whom  she  yet 
considered  as  her  "  beau."  She  had  accepted  it  with  that  end 
in  view,  neither  knowing  or  caring  (though  old  enough,  at 
twenty,  to  realize  all  the  danger  to  which  she  might  be  sub- 
jecting herself),  what  might  be  the  event  of  her  living  in  the 
same  house  with  him,  without  one  religious  or  moral  princi- 
ple to  be  her  safeguard. 

Two  years  had  gone  by.  Burtnett  Haviland,  absorbed  in 
his  devoted  affection  for  his  wife,  and  realizing  that  when 
Heaven  gave  such  a  woman  to  any  man,  it  gave  him  enough, — 
had  never  dreamed  of  the  temptation  that  lay  in  his  path. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  and  believed  that  had  he  known  it,  he  would 
have  removed  it  out  of  the  way,  not  fallen  into  it.  But  hu- 
man nature  is  weak  and  unreliable — perhaps  blindness  was 
the  only  safety.  Almost  any  man  had  better  pray  to  be  de- 
livered from  any  similar  temptation  than  hope  to  escape  it  if 
it  once  comes  to  him.  Haviland,  however  those  chances 
might  have  balanced,  had  been  blind  indeed — seeing  the  girl 
daily,  and  yet  never  reading  the  feeling  that  spoke  in  lip  and 
eye,  and  that  sometimes  even  trembled  in  the  voice.  During 
those  two  years  her  love  for  him  had  grown  more  absorbing, 
more  calculating,  more  wicked — a  love  that  did  not  deify  the 
object,  and  that  merely  seemed  to  exist  because  the  feeling 
ministered  to  selfishness.  She  had  felt,  ever  since  his  mar- 
riage, that  she  should  have  been  his  wife.  She  had  felt,  when 
first  she  saw  his  child,  that  that  child  should  have  been  hers. 
What  she  saw  of  the  mother  in  little  Louise,  she  hated  with 
a  deadly  intensity :  what  she  saw  of  the  father  she  could  love 
and  caress.  Sometimes  she  would  snatch  up  the  child  sud- 
denly,  seeing  one  of  these  natures,  and  caress  it :  then  she 
would  descry  the  other,  and  almost  dasli  it  down,  to  the  terror 
of  Pet,  who  feared  her  almost  as  much  as  she  childishly  loved 
her, — and  to  the  surprise,  at  first,  of  both  parents,  who  even- 
tually set  down  all  her  actions  to  oddity  and  the  whims  of  an 


128  T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      S  II  n  D  D  Y. 

ill-balanced  nature.  Of  course  her  hatred  to  the  wife  had 
strengthened  as  her  lore  Tor  the  husband  increased;  and  there 
was  quite  enough  of  evil  thought  in  her  heart  to  have  budded 
out  in  murder,  but — and  the  cause  which  restrained  her  hand 

from  injury  to  either  Mary  Haviland,  who,  as  she  actually 
believed,  stood  in  her  way,  or  to  the  poor  little  child,  who 
should  have  had  the  same  father  but  another  mother,  not 
even  the  wild,  untrained,  perverted  heart  could  well  have 
explained  to  itself. 

This  was  the  member  of  Burtnett  Haviland's  household, 
upon  whom  both  himself  and  his  wife  blindly  depended  for 
companionship  to  the  latter  in  the  event  of  his  long  absence  ! 

There  was  another  dependence,  but  that  was  entirely  of  a 
secondary  character.  Haviland  knew  that  his  cousin  Kate,  a 
handsome  rattle-pate  and  the  torment  of  every  circle  into 
which  she  was  introduced,  had  grown  tired  of  school-teaching 
in  the  country  and  taken  an  engagement  to  come  to  the  city 
and  teach  fewer  children  for  the  same  amount  of  money ; 
balancing  the  account  of  service  rendered  by  receiving  more 
undervaluing  looks  and  more  insulting  words,  in  one  day, 
in  her  new  employment,  than  she  could  have  seen  and  heard 
in  a  twelvemonth,  in  her  old  profession.  He  could  only  sup- 
pose, however,  that  she  would  find  very  little  time  to  spend 
away  from  her  new  responsibilities  and  under  his  roof;  and 
he  did  not  know  that  the  family  into  which  she  was  about  to 
enter  had  any  connection  whatever  with  that  of  the  merchant 
his  employer. 

It  is  just  possible  that  with  a  clearer  knowledge  than  that 
existing,  of  the  influences  upon  his  own  and  Mary  Haviland's 
welfare,  which  both  the  females  just  named  were  eventually 
to  exert,  the  husband  might  have  made  some  difference  in  his 
arrangements  for  absence.  But  the  fates  have  their  will, 
generally. 

Something  more  of  that  April  Sunday,  and  a  word  of  its 
politico-religious  aspects.  The  young  clerk  had  not  yet 
enough  shaken  off  the  Puritan  habits  acquired  during  his 
country  life,  to  be  in  the  practice  of  absenting  himself  en- 
tirely from  the  House  of  God  on  the  Sabbath  ;  and  he  rightly 
calculated,  in  the  present  instance,  that  the  discourse  to  which 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  129 

ho  would  listen,  attend  whatever  eiblifoh  he  might}  must  have 
some  bearing  on  the  great  national  question  which  absorbed 

his  own  mind.  And  he  might  indeed  have  taken  his  ehanco 
at  a  venture,  among  all  the  houses  of  worship  in  the  city, 
without  fear  of  missing  the  necessary  mental  pabulum.  For 
the  patriotic  fever  had  invaded  the  pulpit  quite  as  much  as  it 
had  done  the  counting-house  and  the  street,  and  perhaps  with 
more  reason  than  either.  In  the  quiet  little  church  which  he 
attended  on  that  day  with  his  wife,  the  unpretentious  minis- 
ter, who  had  usually  been  in  the  habit  of  avoiding  polities 
and  preaching  the  religion  of  his  Master,— perhaps  because 
lie  felt  that  he  could  wash  his  hands  of  any  agency  in  bring- 
ing about  the  distracted  condition  of  the  country,  indulged 
in  no  boisterous  declamation,  but  told  the  story  of  Sumter  as 
directly  and  as  plainly  as  he  had  erewhile  told  that  of 
Calvary,  lamented  that  the  days  should  have  come  when 
brother  must  lift  up  his  hand  against  brother,  and  yet  con- 
cluded his  temperate  discourse  with  the  declaration  that  re- 
bellion against  the  best  of  governments  was  the  blackest  of 
sins;  that  the  constituted  authority  of  the  nation  must  be 
maintained  at  all  hazards;  and  that  the  duty  of  every  true 
man  who  could  bear  a  weapon,  was  to  spring  forward  at  the 
earliest  call  and  aid  in  restoring  the  ascendency  of  the  flag 
over  every  foot  of  soil  it  had  once  shadowed. 

The  preacher  of  a  larger  and  more  prosperous  church, 
whose  diatribes  against  slavery  and  denunciations  of  every 
one  holding  even  tacit  fellowship  with  that  institution, 
had  done  so  much  to  weaken  the  fraternal  bond  and  bring 
about  the  contest  just  inaugurated,  raved,  denounced  and 
vilified  as  of  old,  but  seemed  to  believe  that  raving  and  de- 
nunciation would  win  the  battles  of  the  Union,  as  he  neither 
urged  the  formation  of  an  army  nor  prayed  for  its  success 
when  it  should  be  formed.  Here  one  preached  to  a  congre- 
gation so  wealthy,  indolent  and  exacting,  that  all  agitation 
was  forbidden,  and  he  could  only  allude  to  the  crisis  in  the 
mildest  and  tenderest  of  terms.  And  there  another  had  a 
large  proportion  of  the  Southern  interest  among  his  auditors, 
and  dared  only  to  mince  his  words  and  call  rebellion  "un- 
fortunate disagreement"  and  the  outrage  upon  the  Hag  "a 
8 


1 30  T  IT  E      T  >  A  Y  9      O  F      SHOD  D  Y. 

movement  to  be  regretted*"     I > u t  nil,  or  nearly  all.  bad  their 

shy  at  the  event  ;  until  the  volume  of  oratorical  thunder 
poured  out  in  tin;  one  city,  could  it  have  been  gathered  and 

let  off  in  concert,  would  quite  have  equalled  that  of  the 
bombardment  of  Sumter  itself. 

We  have  seen  how  the  clerk  attended  church,  and  what  lie 
heard.  Is  it  to  be  supposed  that  the  merchant  was  more 
of  a  heathen  than  he  ?  Certainly  not  !  At  the  orthodox 
hour,  one  of  Brewster's  handsomest  landeaux  rolled  up  to  the 
sidewalk  in  front  of  his  house  on  Fifth  Avenue  :  he  entered 
the  carriage,  faultlessly  arrayed  and  immaculately  gloved, 
and  was  whirled  three  whole  squares  to  the  place  of  wor- 
ship. There  he  reclined  at  ease  in  his  luxuriously  cushioned 
pew,  only  secured  in  that  eligible  location  by  the  annual 
payment  of  one  thousand  dollars,  and  almost  sobbed  with 
emotion  when  the  preacher  intimated  that  the  great  calamity 
of  war  had  fallen  upon  the  country  solely  on  account  of  the  per- 
sonal sins  and  extravagances  of  its  people — that  each  should 
practice  a  return  to  early  simplicity  and  economy  in  life, 
justice  towards  others,  and  the  cleansing  of  his  walk  and 
conversation  from  all  that  could  injure  mankind  or  offend  the 
Divine  Being.  He  almost  sobbed — not  quite:  perhaps  lie 
would  have  sobbed  outright  but  for  the  scene  of  Saturday 
evening  with  his  wife,  just  past,  and  that  of  Sunday  evening 
with  that  pleasant  family  the  Fullertons,  yet  to  come, — be- 
tween which  the  church-going  was  sandwiched. 

Besides  he  was  thinking  (and  this  makes  a  further  excuse 
for  his  failing  to  derive  full  spiritual  benefit  from  that  able 
discourse)  whether  S.  &  Co.,  of  Boston,  were  likely  to  have 
yet  on  hand  any  considerable  proportion  of  the  damaged 
satinets  of  which  they  had  bought  so  many  and  sold  so  few 
during  the  preceding  winter — whether  there  were  many  blue 
ones  among  them — how  satinets  would  serve  for  United 
States  uniforms,  instead  of  cloth — how  cheaply  he  could  buy 
them  before  S.  &  Go.  thought  of  the  newr  use  to  which  they 
could  be  turned — and  whether  it  would  pay  him  to  take  the 
five  o'clock  train  that  very  evening  and  go  eastward  to 
satisfy  himself  as  to  the  feasibility  of  the  speculation.  He 
did  not  go  East  by  the  five  o'clock  train,  as  has  been  demon- 


T  TT  K      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  131 

strated  l>y  his  presence  thai  evening!*  the  city  ;  but  there 
ie  reason  to  fear  thai  he  nros1  have  taken  thai  route  the  next 
morning,  or  sent  forward  a  confidential  ageni  ;  for  the  dam- 
aged  satinets  .      Bet   of  them,   like    Felix's   repentance 

and  Mr.  Charles  Holt's  fulfillment  of  the  solemn  duties  en- 
joined on  him  by  the  sermon,  by  and  bye! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Departure  of  the  Seventh  Regiment — A  few  words 
of  Justice  to  that  Organization — Theodore  Winthbop 
and  his  Career— How  Young  Foster  went  away— How 
Burtnett  Haviland  met  an  Acquaintance — Captain 
Jack — Ellsworth  and  the  First  Fire  Zouaves — One 
Soldier  who  did  not  wish  to  be  an  officer. 

Friday  the  nineteenth  of  April  brought  a  pageant  to  the 
city  of  New  York,  novel  then,  but  since  become  lamentably 
common — the  going  away  of  a  regiment  to  the  war.  The 
great  city  had  known  citizeu  soldiery  for  a  long  period — had 
seen  them  on  parade  and  when  they  departed  on  excursions — 
had  boasted  that  no  finer  body  of  men,  taken  suddenly  from 
the  counter  and  the  workshop,  existed  upon  earth — had  heard 
their  steady  tramp  and  seen  their  perfect  array,  on  Fourths 
of  July  and  parade  days — had  seen  the  Prince  of  Wales  and 
his  staff  of  soldiers  reviewing  them,  and  heard  those  repre- 
sentatives of  English  pride  wonder  whether  fighting  men 
could  really  be  made  in  that  manner.  It  had  seen  those  troops 
in  the  street,  more  than  once,  when  possible  mob-danger 
threatened  and  their  muskets  seemed  necessary  to  prevent 
domestic  violence.  It  had  watched  them  when  they  went 
away  on  such  great  occasions  as  the  trip  to  Richmond  for  the 
obsequies  of  Monroe,  and  the  visit  to  Boston  to  honor  the  in- 
auguration of  the  statue  of  Warren  on  Bunker  Hill.  It  had 
seen  the  citizen   soldiery   on  holidays  and  when  acting  as 


131  T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

merely  aa  armed  police;  but  it  had  never  before  sent  any  of 
the  in  away  to  fight 

Monday  had   brought  the   President's  proclamation  and  re- 
moved  from  the   minds  of  men  like  Burtnett   Haviland   any 
doubt  whether  they  would  at  once  be  called  upon  to  do  battle 
for  the  country.     Tuesday,   Wednesday  and    Thursday    had 
brought   intelligence    of    still    more    threatening    belligerent 
movements  in  the  seceded  States  aud  on  the  borders — the  call 
of   the   Confederates  for  troops  ;  the  refusal  of  three  of  the 
governors  to   furnish   one  soldier  for  the  Union  cause  ;  the 
burning  of  the  bridges  between  Washington  and  Baltimore, 
as  if  to  isolate  the  doomed  cities  of  the  border;  the  planting 
of  rebel  batteries  on  the  heights  opposite  Washington  ;  the 
danger  every  day  growing  more  imminent,  and  every  day  mak- 
ing manifest  by  more  agonizing  appeals,  that  the  Capital  of  the 
nation,  with  the  public  archives  and  all  the  machinery  of  the 
government,  might  at  any  hour  fall  into  the  rebel  hands.     An- 
derson  had  come  home;  the  Massachusetts   Sixth  had  gone 
down  |  troops  from  New  York  had  been  called  for — actually 
implored  :  troops,  without  one  more  hour  of  dangerous  delay. 
The  Seventh  had  sprung  up  to  meet  the  call.     Fullest  in 
ranks  and  most  perfect  in  drill,  it  was  believed  that  it  would 
have  more  weight  and  influence  in  discouraging  the  rebels  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Washington,  than  four  times  the  number 
of  men  otherwise  organized,  because  it  had  been,  as  a  body, 
at  Richmond,  had  been  seen  and  appreciated  by  the  Virgin- 
ians, and  had  been  reckoned  " conservative"  (i.  e.  not  "abo- 
lition") to  such  an  extent  that  many  of  the  Southerners  had 
declared  :  "  There  is  one  regiment  of  soldiers  we  are  sure  of 
— the  Seventh  will  not  fight  against  ?/.s."     To  show  that  the 
Seventh  would  fight  against  them  or  against  any  other  ene- 
mies of  the  country,  was  rightly  held  as  likely  to  have  a  de- 
pressing influence  on  that  portion  of  the  secessionists  who  had 
calculated  upon   sympathy  at  the  North.     There  is  no  doubt 
that,  for  the  moment,  the  influence  of  the  movement  was  in- 
deed depressing — that  the  advance  of  the  Seventh  to  Wash- 
ington did  more  than  the  presence  of  ten  times  the  number 
of  other  troops  might  have  done,  to  prevent  an  immediate  at- 
tack upon  the  Capital.     Their  drill  and  numbers  were  ieaied 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  133 

— their  wealth,  respectability  and  moral  influence  were  held 
even  more  in  dread. 

It  has  been  the  fashion,  since  that  time,  to  decry  the  Sev- 
enth Regiment,  before  so  feted  and  honored.  The  fashion 
]'i\mui  on  the  day  when  they  marched  back  up  Broadway  from 
that  thirty  days'  campaign,  their  uniforms  soiled  and  dusty, 
but  their  weapons  bloodless,  their  banners  unrent,  and  their 
ranks  all  full  except  in  the  absence  of  one  gallant  young  mem- 
ber* who  already  lay  in  his  grave  in  Greenwood,  and  a  i'aw 
who  had  remained  to  take  part  in  the  longer  service  of  other 
regiuu>nts.  But  if  they  came  back  from  a  bloodless  campaign, 
let  it  be  said  that  they  went  away  to  a  bloody  one,  not  only  in 
their  own  belief  but  in  the  opinion  of  all  the  thousands  who 
gathered  to  witness  their  departure.  Not  one  of  those  who 
on  that  eventful  Friday  saw  them  leave  their  armory,  the  first 
of  the  New  York  soldiery  to  peril  their  lives  for  the  Union — 
not  one  of  the  business  men  who  crowded  out  from  their 
stores  to  witness  a  movement  which  carried  away  so  many  of 
their  own  class,  to  meet  all  the  uncertainties  of  war— not  one 
of  the  idlers  who  looked  at  them  as  they  marched  down 
Broadway,  and  lazily  respected  a  patriotic  vigor  and  prompti- 
tude which  they  could  not  emulate— not  one  of  the  women 
who  waved  handkerchiefs  to  them  from  the  windows  and 
the  sidewalks,  as  swept  by  the  long  steady  lines  of  shapely 
men  in  sober  gray  picked  out  with  black,  with  faces  calmly 
grave  and  many  of  them  seeming  too  young  and  too  tenderly 
reared  for  soldiers,  with  blankets  rolled,  knapsacks  strapped", 
and  the  two  gleaming  brass  howitzers  wheeling  before,— not 
one  of  all  these  believed  that  they  would  even  pass  through 
Baltimore  without  a  deadly  struggle,  or  without  leaving  some  of 
their  number  dead  to  seal  the  curse  of  that  city  then  so  deeply 
execrated  in  the  loyal  North.  They  believed  themselves,  they 
were  believed  by  others,  to  be  marching  to  conflict  and  death  ; 
what  more  of  self-sacrificing  bravery  could  they  have  shown, 
had  the  event  justified  the  worst  apprehensions  ?  They  were 
marching,  too,  in  reality,  to  that  which  tries  the  mettle  of  the 
soldier  quite  as  much  as  the  exposure  of  the  battle-field— wea- 


*  Jonathan  Lawrence  Keese,  son  of  the  late  John  Keese,  the  well-known  hook- 
auctioneer  and  table  wit,  killed  by  accident  while  encamped  near  Washington. 


184  THE      DAYS      OF       SHoDDY. 

rying  labor  of  foot  and  hand,  to  which  except  as  gymnast* 
they  had  Inch  little  used,  [f  the  Seventh  in  that  campaign 
had  no  occasion  to  fight  the  rebel  enemy,  they  found  oee 
that  trie. I  the  stoutest  spirit,  to  fight  the  demons  of  sloth  and 
indulgence,  when  they  threw  by  their  white  gloves,  assumed 
the  axe,  the  spade  and  the  rope,  dragged  cannon  and  rebuilt 
burnt  bridges,  beneath  a  Maryland  sun,  on  their  toilsome  way 
from  the  seaboard  to  Annapolis  Junction.  All  this  is  little, 
now,  it  is  true,  compared  to  what  trained  soldiers  have 
endured  ;  but  it  was  much  then  and  for  them.  And  more  us 
they  showed  what  they  could  do  and  were  willing  to  do  if 
need  came,  than  for  what  they  were  really  called  to  do,  the 
Seventh  have  ever  since  deserved  honor  instead  of  undervalu- 
ation, for  their  "March  to  Washington." 

In  a  certain  sense,  too,  they  were  really  marching  to  death 
— the  death  of  their  corps.  From  the  day  on  which  they 
made  their  sadly  triumphant  progress  down  the  crowded 
streets  of  New  York  and  swept  away  from  the  jostling  and 
shouting  thousands  gathered  in  the  Xew  Jersey  Railroad 
Depot  at  Jersey  City, — the  Seventh,  as  it  before  existed,  has 
been  known  no  more.  One  by  one  the  members  of  this 
"show-regiment  which  has  done  no  service'' have  dropped 
away  and  entered  other  organizations  engaged  in  the  War  for 
the  Union,  until  nearly  four  hundred  of  the  original  number 
have  been  fighting  for  the  cause — most  of  them  promoted  to 
the  rank  of  officers  out  of  the  respect  paid  their  character 
and  discipline,  and  scattered  through  every  grade  from  Lieu- 
tenant up  to  General.  Others  have  rilled  their  places,  the 
name  and  strength  of  the  corps  have  been  maintained  ;  but 
the  Seventh  as  it  was — the  Seventh  that  Winthrop  chron- 
icled— is  a  thing  of  history. 

And  in  that  name  which  has  crept  unawares  into  the  last 
sentence,  there  was  another  interest  involved  in  the  departure 
of  the  "  pet  regiment."  Marching  close  beside  the  howitzers 
as  they  passed  down  Broadway  on  that  eventful  Friday  when 
the  Massachusetts  Sixth  were  struggling  with  the  crowd  in 
the  streets  of  Baltimore,  was  a  young  man,  known  on  the  roll 
as  "  Theodore  Winthrop,''  who  had  only  joined  the  regiment 
when  it  was  ordered  to  active  service.     Agile-framed,  light- 


THE       DAYS       OF       SllUULY,  185 

haired  and  blue  eyed,  with  something  of  arrogance  in  iho 

curl  of  the  light-mmistachod  lip  and  the  full  swell  of  the  nos- 
tril— ho  would  have  been  a  man  of  mark,  the  cap  removed 
from  his  broad  brow,  in  any  drawing-room.  But  he  was  un- 
noticed there  and  then,  and  among  men  who  had  been  heard 
of  while  he  had  not.  He  believed  that  he  had  brain,  and 
some  of  those  who  knew  him  best  had  a  corresponding  im- 
pression. Traveller,  philosopher,  nature-lover,  Sybarite,  he 
had  seen  and  felt  more  than  most  men  of  twice  his  age  ;  and 
yet  he  was  a  nobod}'.  His  opportunity  had  not  come — it 
was  only  to  come  when  his  head  should  be  low  in  the  dust. 
He  had  volume  upon  volume  of  manuscript,  novels  and  essa}rs 
finished  and  unfinished,  lying  in  the  compartments  of  the 
escritoire  in  his  little  room  on  the  slopes  of  Staten  Island  ; 
but  they  were  of  no  use — merely  mediocre,  the  publishers 
said.  He  had  essayed  the  publishing  experiment  :  Grub 
Street  had  decided  against  him,  while  it  sent  out  inane  trash 
by  the  million,  and  pirated  alike  brains  and  balderdash 
from  abroad.  He  was  quiet,  if  not  content :  he  was  going 
to  save  the  country  now,  and  write  more  and  better  romances 
afterward.  He  did  not  know  or  dream  it,  but  he  was  carving 
out  his  literary  name  with  the  very  weapon  he  carried.  He 
was  to  become  the  chronicler  of  the  "  March  of  the  Seventh  ;" 
— that  was  to  make  him  a  pet  with  the  publishers  and  readers 
of  the  Atlantic  Monthly  (a  placer  of  fame  for  any  man  who 
has  the  fortune  to  fall  into  its  good  graces)  ;  a  few  weeks 
later,  when  the  Seventh  had  passed  up  Broadway  again,  done 
with  labor  and  returned  home,  he  was  to  die  a  soldier's  death 
at  Big  Bethel ;  and  then  was  to  come  immortality — regard 
in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen  for  what  he  had  been  and 
what  he  might  have  been,  and  literary  appreciation,  for  which 
he  would  have  given  an  eye  or  an  arm  when  alive,  to  the  ex- 
tent of  twenty  or  thirty  editions  when  he  had  passed  into 
that  happy  state  of  existence  which  we  have  no  warrant  for 
believing  that  there  has  ever  entered  a  mere  author,  a  critic 
or  a  publisher. 

But  all  the  while  that  this,  which  may  or  may  not  be  called 
the-"  Apology  for  the  Seventh,"  has  been  coming  from  the 
pen  of  a  writer  who  has  never  had  any  connection,  honorary 


lo6  T  U  E       I'AYS       ur"    SlIOi'DY. 

or  otherwise,  with  that  regiment, — the  course  of  this  narra- 
tion has  been  brought  to  a  provoking  stand-still — very  much 
as  a  line  of  street  ears  might  be  by  the  laying  of  the  lmse 
-  the  track,  at  a  lire.  Quite  as  provoking  to  the  con- 
ductor as  the  passengers  ;  and  at  the  very  earliest  moment 
when  the  hose  can  be  removed  with  safety  to  the  public  inter- 
eats,  let  it  be  so  removed  and  the  blocked  ears  past 

Young  Foster,  junior  clerk  in  the  house  of  Charles  Holt 
«fc  Andrews,  had  found  a  vent  for  his  juvenile  enthusiasm 
in  joining  the  Seventh,  and  he  was  among  the  twelve  hun- 
dred who  passed  down  Broadway  on  that  eventful  Friday. 
Foster  was  not  only  very  sanguine,  as  such  young  people  are 
apt  to  be,  but  very  sanguinary,  as  the  young  are  not  apt  to 
be,  any  more  than  their  elders.  He  not  only  believed  that  he 
should  save  the  country  in  some  notable  manner,  and  come 
home  with  the  single  star  of  a  brigadier-genera!  at  least, — 
but  he  was  "down  on1'  Baltimore,  remembered  his  academic 
classics,  thought  of  delendo-ing  Carthage,  believed  that  Bal- 
timore ought  to  be  "  wiped  out,''  and  that  he  was  one  of  the 
destroying  angels  commissioned  to  perform  that  sublime 
operation.  He  had  accordingly  taken  a  hint  from  the  talk 
about  Billy  Wilson's  Zouaves,  then  already  iu  course  of  or- 
ganization, and  provided  himself  with  a  concealed  revolver, 
which  was  a  little  against  the  rules,  for  privates,  but  not 
entirely  unallowable. — and  a  hermetically-hidden  bowie-knife, 
which  was  indefensible  and  atrocious.  At  least  ten  of  the 
rebels  were  expected  (by  himself  and  his  mother)  to  fall  in 
any  attempt  made  on  the  life  of  young  Foster  ;  and  rebeldom 
generally  acted  with  great  wisdom  in  keeping  out  of  his  way, 
albeit  he  lost  his  revolver  at  Philadelphia  and  did  not  find 
himself  in  the  proper  funds  to  buy  another,  and  albeit  the 
bowie-knife  found  its  best  office,  very  soon  after,  in  opening 
oysters  down  at  Annapolis. 

Foster  had  invited  all  his  friends  in  the  store  to  come  out 
and  "see  him  off."  Haviland.  who  had  been  so  pulled  about 
by  half  a  dozen  friends  anxious  to  have  him  join  one  and 
another  regiment  then  in  course  of  formation,  that  he  had  as 
yet  enrolled  his  name  in  neither, — with  others  accepted  the 
invitation  as  well  as  the  chance  to  see  the  first  corps  going 


THE      DAYS      OF      SEODDY.  137 

awn  y  to  the  war,  and  came  out  to  Broadway  just  as  the  regi- 
ment began  to  pass.  He  had  many  friends  in  the  organization, 
and  might  perhaps  have  joined  it  but  that  he  believed  his 
duty  as  a  soldier  would  lie  beyond  thirty  days.  He  met 
many  nods  and  many  waves  of  the  hand  in  recognition,  as 
the  good-looking  fellows  went  by  ;  and  at  last  he  caught  not 
only  a  wave  of  the  hand  but  almost  a  bow  from  Foster,  who 
was  resplendent  and  gorgeous  in  his  new  uniform  and  appro- 
priating to  himself  nearly  every  nutter  of  a  female  handker- 
chief along  the  whole  line.  Then  the  files  passed  on,  the 
crowd  closed  in  behind  them,  the  flags  fluttered,  music 
sounded  and  the  cheers  replied,  farther  down  the  street ;  and 
the  Seventh  was  to  be  seen  no  more. 

Just  at  that  moment  and  when  the  crowd  was  closing  in 
behind  the  line  of  soldiers,  Haviland  felt  a  hearty  slap  upon 
the  shoulder  and  heard  himself  addressed  by  name.  He 
turned,  to  see  a  fine-looking  man  of  thirty-five  to  thirty- 
eight  ;  five  feet  ten  or  eleven  in  height ;  handsome  in  face, 
though  the  cheeks  wrere  a  little  bronzed  by  exposure  and 
touched  with  the  faintest  suspicion  of  late  hours  and  current 
dissipation ;  dark  haired,  but  with  a  tinge  of  red  in  the 
brown  ;  heavy  dark  whiskers  with  a  still  more  decided  dash 
of  red,  worn  all  around  the  face,  but  the  upper  lip  clean 
shaven.  A  man  of  mark,  beyond  a  question,  with  a  merry 
smile  on  his  well-formed  mouth  and  a  quizzical  glance  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye,  while  the  mouth  could  at  times  assume 
an  expression  strangely  sad  and  the  eye  could  be  indignant 
and  even  wicked-looking.  The  sort  of  man  to  be  fallen  in 
love  with  by  women  not  above  a  certain  scale  of  intellectual 
and  moral  requirement,  very  readily — the  sort  of  man  to 
win  warm  friendships — and  yet  the  sort  of  man  who  could 
lose  both  the  prizes  named,  occasionally,  by  a  mis-step  in 
which  carelessness  was  more  of  a  component  part  than 
wrong-headedness  or  want  of  good  feeling.  A  man  capable 
of  bearing  warm  regard  to  others,  at  least  for  a  certain 
period  ;  and  then  somewhat  addicted  to  nursing  the  most 
deadly  hatred,  that  years  and  opportunity  for  revenge  could 
scarcely  satisfy.  A  newspaper  writer  of  experience,  a  wit, 
an  incarnate  fireman,  and  an  old  member  of  the  Seventh.     A 


138  THE       DAYS      OF      SHuDDY. 

man  who  looked  every  inch  the  soldier,  with  his  erect  figure 
and  in  his  well-fitting  military  blue,  with  the  designating 
mark  of  a  Captain  on  the  shoulder  and  the  light-infantry 
bogle  on  the  front  of  his  foraging-cap.     Such  was  "  Captain 

Jack"'  (as  he  need  only  be  known),  on  the  day  when  he 
touched  Burtnett  Haviland  on  the  shoulder  and  by  that 
simple  act  decided  the  whole  future  course  of  his  destiny. 

"Ah,  Jack,  is  that  you  ?  I  did  not  see  you  !*'  said  the 
clerk,  as  he  recognized  the  man  who  had  accosted  him. 

"  I  saw  you  some  minutes  ago,"  said  Captain  Jack.  "Got 
lots  of  friends  in  the  regiment,  I  suppose." 

"A  good  many,"  answered  Haviland.  "  One  of  our  clerks 
amoug  the  number.  Hallo  !  I  did  not  notice — you  are  in 
uniform  !     Are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  should  think  so  !"  said  the  Captain.  "  Don't  you  see,  I 
have  got  things  on  my  shoulders,  and  am  going  to  carry 
a  toasting-fork  instead  of  a  shooting-iron." 

"Yes,  I  see,"  laughed  Haviland.  Then  in  a  different  tone 
he  added.  "Well,  I  am  going  myself,  but  I  have  not  decided 
where  I  shall  enrol  my  name." 

"  Going,  and  have  not  yet  enrolled  your  name  !"  exclaimed 
the  Captain.  "  Xow  then,  Burt,  I  am  in  luck.  The  very 
man  I  wanted  !" 

u  In  what  ?"  asked  Haviland.      "  What  is  your  number  V 

"  Haven't  the  least  idea  what  is  to  be  our  number,"  replied 
Captain  Jack.  "All  our  fellow*,  though,  are  to  be  Number 
One.  But  see  here,"  and  he  pointed  to  an  object  at  a  very 
little  distance — "that  will  show  you  all  about  it." 

A  new- store  was  in  process  of  erection  very  near  the  corner 
of  the  street  by  which  they  were  standing,  and  the  inevitable 
pile  of  bricks  had  gathered  in  front  of  the  rising  structure,  to 
the  disfigurement  of  the  street,  the  vexation  of  passers-by, 
and  the  gratis  instruction  of  the  whole  population  in  that 
branch  of  the  military  art  which  consists  in  the  passage  of 
any  formidable  obstruction  thrown  up  by  an  enemy.  On  the 
side-walk  face  of  the  brick  fortification,  rendered  safe  from  the 
appropriative  fingers  of  old-paper  gatherers  by  the  planked 
moat   which  surrounded   it,  flaunted   a  showv   hand-bill,  of 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  139 

which  the  following  is  a  true  copy,  size  and  style  of  display- 
type  only  excepted  : 


DOWN    WITH    SECESSION  ! 

THE    DNION    MUST    AXD    SHALL    BE    PRESERVED. 


TO  THE  MEMBERS  OF  THE  NEW  YORK  FIRE  DEPARTMENT. 
The  government  appeals  to  the 
NEW     YORK     FIRE     DEPARTMENT 
for  one  regiment  of 
ZOUAVES. 
The    subscriber  is  detailed   in  New  York  for  the  purpose  of 
drilling  and  equipping  the  regiment  after  being  organized 
The  companies  will  be  allowed  to  select  their  own  officers 

The  roll  for  Company is   at  the  Engine  House    No.  

from  10  a.m.  to  12  p.m.,  daily. 

COL.  ELLSWORTH,  of  Chicago  Zouaves. 


"That  is  the  idea!"  said  Captain  Jack,  when  his  com- 
panion had  taken  sufficient  time  for  the  reading  of  the  poster. 
11  Going  to  have  the  finest  body  of  fellows  that  ever  shouldered 
a  musket.  Been  used  to  rows,  all  their  lives,  you  know,"  he 
continued,  with  a  proper  appreciation  of  one  of  the  peculiar 
missions  of  the  Department.  "  And  won't  they  fight  I  should 
like  to  know  ?" 

"  I  should  think  they  would,"  answered  Haviland. 

*  You  can  bet  your  life  they  will !"  said  the  Captain, 
mimicking  the  tone  and  manner  of  some  of  the  Moseys  and 
Sikeseys  who  had  not  then  (and  have  not  yet)  quite  all  gone 
out  of  the  organization. 

The  whole  history  of  that  ill-starred  regiment  is  a  com- 
mentary on  that  remark  of  Captain  Jack.  It  sprung  into 
existence  from  a  corresponding  idea,  and  was  organized  by  a 
man  who  had  peculiar  facilities  for  managing  and  yet  mis- 
managing it. 

Some  two  years  before,  in  the  "weak,  piping  times  of 
peace,"  when  soldiering  was  a  holiday  and  display  all  that 


140  THE       DAYS      OF      S  H  O  D  D  Y. 

was  thought  of  in  that  connection,  an  Association  of  young 

men  had  been  formed  in  Chicago,  with  Eima  (or  Elmer)  E. 
Ellsworth  as  their  Captain,  under  the  name  of  the  United 
States  Zouave  Cadets.  Ellsworth,  an  enthusiastic  young 
lawyer  with  much  versatility  and  little  practice,  had  heen  an 
enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  exploits  of  that  terrible  branch  of 
the  French  service,  the  Zouaves,  and  their  competitors,  the 
Turcos,  both  largely  dependent  for  their  efficiency  upon  their 
gymnastic  powers  and  their  proficiency  in  a  peculiar  descrip- 
tion of  drill.  He  had  fancied  that  this  drill  could  be  intro- 
duced with  advantage  in  the  United  States  service,  and  the 
Zouave  Cadets  formed  the  first  embodiment  of  the  idea. 
They  were  principally  composed  of  young  business  men, 
clerks  and  others,  respectable  in  character,  and  able  to  com- 
mand enough  of  both  time  and  money  for  the  purposes  con- 
templated. They  were  subjected  to  almost  as  rigid  bodily 
discipline  as  so  many  prize-fighters  preparing  for  the  ring, 
liquor  in  any  shape  being  forbidden,  and  all  other  enervating 
indulgences  put  under  ban.  They  commenced  the  practice 
of  the  Zouave  drill,  amended  and  improved  by  Ellsworth, 
and  after  a  few  months  became  as  perfect  iu  it  as  useless 
(from  exhaustion  and  over-use  of  the  system)  for  almost  any 
other  occupation  in  life.  At  about  the  time  they  had  thor- 
oughly mastered  the  drill  and  become  the  admiration  of 
gaping  thousands  who  flocked  to  their  exhibitions — while 
they  could  handle  the  rifle  like  a  mere  wand  and  contort 
themselves  into  every  impossible  and  unnecessary  shape, 
they  probably  would  not  have  been  able  to  stand,  in  actual 
combat,  before  the  same  number  of  any  ordinary  militia  in 
the  country.  But  they  made  a  splendid  show,  and  that 
seemed  to  be  all  that  was  required.  At  the  national  exhib- 
ition held  at  Springfield,  Illinois,  in  the  summer  of  1860,  the 
Zouave  Cadets  took,  without  any  pretence  at  successful 
rivalry,  the  prize  of  a  magnificent  stand  of  colors  offered  to 
the  corps  showing  the  greatest  perfection  in  drill ;  and  then 
their  great  end  was  achieved.  They  became  the  theme  of 
popular  admiration — the  very  ideal  of  soldiers.  A  few  months 
later  they  came  to  the  City  of  New  York,  by  invitation,  re- 
ceived the  courtesies  of  some  of  the  State  militia  organiza- 


THE      PAYS      OF      SIIOPDY.  141 

firms,  and  gave  some  exhibitions  which  confused  the  specta- 
tors as  to  the  object  of  many  of  the  peculiarities  of  drill, 
quite  as  ranch  as  ihey  delighted  by  their  brilliancy  of  execu- 
tion. Half  a  dozen  corps  were  at  once  talked  of  among  the 
Ne#  York  gymnasts,  in  emulation  of  the  Chicago  success, 
but  (fortunately  or  unfortunately  as  the  case  may  be)  none 
of  them  were  formed. 

jAimong  the  admiring  spectators  of  the  drill  of  the  Zouave 
Cadets,  at  Springfield  and  Chicago,  in  I860,  was  that  remark- 
able person  who  was  elected  to  the  Presidency  at  the  close 
of  that  year.  He  admired  the  drill,  proportionately  as  he  un- 
derstood little  or  nothing  of  it.  (There  had  been  no  Zouave 
drill,  whatever,  in  his  Indian  war  experience,  though  had  he 
been  on  the  opposite  side  in  the  fight,  he  might  have  found 
something  very  like  it.)  He  admired  the  young  Captain  of 
the  Zouaves,  and  came  to  the  sage  conclusion  that  the  man 
who  could  do  that,  could  do  almost  any  thing — almost  "make 
an  almanac."  Accordingly,  when  the  progress  from  Spring- 
field to  Washington,  by  way  of  New  York,  commenced  (to 
sutler  such  a  sudden  interruption  at  Harrisburgh),  young  Ells- 
worth, abandoning  his  new  position  of  Quartermaster  of 
Northern  Illinois  and  Paymaster  of  the  State,  was  a  member 
of  his  suite,  going  proudly  to  make  his  deJbut  on  that  broad 
stage  of  the  whole  nation,  which  he  believed  so  much  fuller 
of  promise  than  his  one  State.  Arrived  at  Washington,  the 
President  seemed  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  to  do  with 
his  protege  ;  and  the  wavering  of  intention  in  his  mind  is  said 
to  have  run  for  a  time  between  making  him  Chief  Clerk  of 
the  War  Department,  or  Second  Lieutenant  in  the  regular 
army  (two  posts  not  entirely  similar),  the  latter  being  finally 
decided  upon. 

At  this  opportune  moment,  for  Ellsworth,  came  the  break- 
ing out  of  the  rebellion.  He  had  probably  no  ambition  what- 
ever to  be  a  subordinate  in  a  service  in  which  any  one  of  a 
thousand  other  men  could  be  as  valuable  as  himself,  while  he 
felt  that  he  had  capacities  for  another  and  widely-different 
command.  He  had  courage,  energy  and  patriotism,  and  he 
believed  that  he  could  be  Useful  in  a  higher  charge  and  with 
a  corps  organized  and  drilled  after  his  own  system.     He  at 


142  T  IT  I       T>  A  Y  -       OF      SlhiHHY 

once  applied  for  permission  to  recruit  n  regimen!  fir  active 
service,  the  Colonelcy  to  be  conferred  upon  him  when  he  sne- 
ceeded  in  thai  object  This  permission  was  granted,  all  the 
loyal  States  lying  before  him,  ''Where  to  choose."     And  now 

came  that  choice  which  proved  at  once  bis  appreciation  of 

the  possession  of  certain  qualities  and  his  want  of  perception 
of  the  absence  of  others. 

Col.  Ellsworth  did  not  choose  New  York  as  the  place  in 
which  to  raise  his  Zouave  regiment,  without  excellent  rea- 
sons for  that  selection.  A  regiment,  to  be  fully  effective, 
should  be  recruited  and  organized  in  one  locality.  Next, 
Chicago  would  not  be  likely  to  furnish  enough  athletic  and 
willing  men  to  form  a  regiment  with  the  original  Zouavete, 
even  if  all  the  latter  should  be  as  willing  to  fight  as  they  had 
once  been  to  drill.  Then,  the  Colonel  had  made  many  valu- 
able acquaintances  in  New  York,  during  the  visit  of  the 
Zouaves,  and  he  had  witnessed  the  bravery,  agility  and  rat- 
tling character  of  the  New  York  firemen.  He  naturally  be- 
lieved that  the  man  who  could  walk  the  slippery  gutter  of  a 
six-story  house  undaunted  at  midnight,  amid  flame  and  smoke, 
with  that  gutter  a  glare  of  ice  and  the  heavy  pipe  of  the  en- 
gine in  his  hand,  after  dragging  that  engine  rive  miles  at  a 
run, — would  not  be  likely  to  flinch  before  a  battery  or  to  break 
down  under  the  fatigues  of  the  most  arduous  campaign.  The 
New  York  firemen  were  the  men  for  his  purpose,  beyond  a 
question.  And  to  a  certain  extent  he  was  right,  for  they  had 
(as  they  have)  the  twin  qualities  of  bravery  and  endurance. 
But  there  were  two  points  upon  which  he  had  made  no  cal- 
culation or  erred  in  his  estimate — their  readiness  to  fall 
quickly  under  strict  discipline,  and  his  own  fitness  as  the  man 
to  command  and  develop  them.  These  two  points  were  to 
present  themselves,  and  to  be  solved,  in  the  future.  Just  then 
he  was  high  in  hope  and  energetic  in  action,  raising  the  regi- 
ment which  was  to  be  the  pride  of  the  service,  and  upon  the 
lighting  qualities  of  which,  as  we  have  seen,  Captain  Jack, 
not  altogether  in  jest,  was  disposed  to  "bet  his  life." 

"And  you  think  that  I  am  one  of  the  men  who  ought  to  be 
in  a  fighting  regiment?"  asked  Haviland,  when  much  less 


T  U  B       DAYS      OF      SIToT)  I>  Y.  143 

time  had  elapsed  after  Captain  Jack's  remark  than  has  boon 
consumed  in  this  episode  of  the  Ellsworth  history. 

"You  come  from  a  fighting  State,"  said  the  Captain,  who 
knew  something  of  the  early  history\of  the  clerk.  "And  you 
have  always  looked  to  me  like  a  man  who  would  be  pleasanter 
as  a  friend  than  an  enemy." 

"Thank  you  for  your  good  opinion,"  said  Haviland.  "I 
hope  and  believe  that  I  am  no  coward.  But  we  are  all  yet 
to  be  tried." 

"There  are  other  qualities  than  mere  courage  that  are  to 
be  tried,"  answered  the  Captain.  "It  is  the  awi'ullest  bosh  in 
the  world  about  people  being  afraid  when  going-  into  battle. 
The  most  nervous  man  in  the  service  is  likely  to  be  the 
worst  dare-devil,  after  the  first  fire,  for  he  gets  angry  soonest, 
at  seeing  the  brains  of  some  one  he  knows,  scattered  all  over 
him ;  and  when  lie  is  once  fairly  mad  be  wants  holding  back 
instead  of  pushing  ahead." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  had  seen  service,"  suggested  the  clerk. 
"  Have  you  ?" 

"Never  on  the  land,  but  a  little  at  sea."  replied  the  Cap- 
tain.     "  I  had  the  honor  of  wearing  Uncle  Sam's  blue  a  little 

while  on  board  the  old  ,  and  if  a  man  can  be  scared 

anywhere  under  fire  he  can  on  shipboard,  where  he  cannot  run 
away  even  if  he  has  ever  such  a  fancy  for  it,  but  must  stay 
and  take  what  comes.  And  yet  T  never  saw  more  than  one 
man  who  showed  the  white  feather  when  shot  were  flying, 
and  he  had  been  made  a  wreck  beforehand  by  the  scurvy." 

"But  suppose  that  I  should  wish  to  join  the  Zouaves." 
said  Haviland,  returning  to  the  subject  as  if  his  fancy  had 
really  been  taken  with  the  idea, — "  would  Ellsworth  have  me  ? 
I  am  not  a  fireman." 

"  Have  you  never  been  ?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  clerk,  "  I  joined  old  Thirty-eight 
two  or  three  years  ago,  did  a  little  duty  with  her  down-town, 
and  then  backed  out  because  I  was  too  lazy  or  because  it 
kept  me  too  much  from  home — I  do  not  know  which  !" 

"Either  one  will  do — good  excuses  both,"  said  the  Captain. 
"  Meanwhile  you  have  been  quite   fireman  enough  to  come 


144:  THE      I I  A  Y  S      OF      SflODDT. 

under  the  rule.  And  now  say  the  word,  for  I  must  get  up  1o 
the  Carriage-house.     Put  stop — what  do  you  want 

"A  rifle,  I  suppose  !"  said  the  prospective  recruit,  very  in- 
nocently. 

''What!"  cried  the  Captain.  "I  mean  what  rank  will  you 
expect  ?  We  can  make  you  a  sergeant — I  don't  know  bat  we 
can  find  you  a.  Second  Lieutenancy,  if — " 

"If  I  wanted  any  such  position,"  answered  Haviland, 
calmly.  "I  do  not  know — I  may  not  be  fit  for  a  private,  and 
I  certainly  am  not  fit  for  an  officer;  and  whether  I  go  with 
this  regiment  or  some  other,  I  expect  no  position  but  one  in 
the  ranks." 

Captain  Jack  turned  short  around  and  took  such  a  look  at 
the  speaker  as  a  naturalist  bestows  upon  a  very  rare  cariosity 
suddenly  brought  to  view.  Then  he  caught  Haviland  by  the 
arm,  whirled  him  round  to  the  sun,  and  made  a  steady  survey 
of  his  face.  At  last  with  a  prolonged  "  Phew  !"  and  a  "  By 
Moses,  I  believe  the  man  is  in  earnest  !"  he  released  him. 

"  In  earnest  ?     Certainly  !     Why  not  ?"  said  Haviland. 

"  Well,  you  are  just  the  first  man  I  ever  saw.  who  did  not 
want  an  office,  civil  or  military!"  broke  out  the  Captain. 
"  Any  more  like  you  down  at  the  store  ?  If  there  are,  fetch 
them  up,  and  I  will  have  a  regiment  of  my  own — all  privates. 
The  worst  trouble  we  have  is,  that  every  one  wants  something 
on  his  shoulder,  or  two  or  three  stripes  on  his  arm,  and  nobody 
is  willing  to  go  into  the  ranks.  They  remind  me  a  little, 
sometimes,  of  the  Yankee  militia  company,  in  which  every 
one  wanted  to  command  and  none  to  serve,  and  they  had  to 
compromise  the  matter  by  appointing  them  all  Brigadier- 
Generals  and  letting  them  take  command  week  about  !" 

Had  the  Captain  been  speaking  a  few  weeks  later,  he  might 
have  quoted  a  still  more  notable  instance  in  the  British  Union 
Regiment,  so  auspiciously  commenced  and  so  ingloriously 
abandoned,  and  of  which  the  newspaper  wits  reported  that 
there  were  something  over  two  hundred  officers,  and  one  pri- 
vate, until  they  broke  him  down  by  over-fatiguing  him  at 
drill,  and  the  poor  fellow  finally  perished  in  the  cruel  attempt 
to  form  him  into  a  hollow  square  ! 


THE      HAYS      OF      SHODDY.  MT. 

But  being  reduced  to  the  single  jocular  illustration,  the 
Captain  concluded  with  it,  and  with  the  repeated  question: 

"And  you  really  are  willing  to  go  into  the  service  as  a 
private  ?" 

"  Not  only  willing,  but  determined  to  do  so,"  answered 
Ilaviland. 

"  Will  you  go  with  me  ?»  asked  the  Captain,  in  a  tone  that 
had  lost  all  its  levity. 

"I  wilJ,"  answered  the  singular  recruit;  and  that  word 
parsed,  the  deed  was  done.  Burtnett  Ilaviland  was  not  the 
man  to  give  his  word  lightly,  or  to  falsity  it  when  it  was  once 
given.  Captain  Jack,  much  as  he  might  wonder  at  the  sin- 
gular fancy  which  preferred  the  ranks  to  the  place  of  a  non- 
commissioned officer,  or  even  a  commission,— understood  the 
speaker  well  enough,  to  be  sure  of  his  adherence  to  any  line 
of  duty  he  had  marked  out  for  himself;  and  he  merely  said, 
as  he  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand: 

"  Will  you  come  up  to  the  Carriage-house  to-night  VI 
"  No— to-morrow,"  answered  Ilaviland.     The  Captain  was 
gone;  the  singular  interview  was  terminated;   and  Burtnett 
Jlaviland  was  a  Fire  Zouave. 

It  is  not  worth  while  to  speculate  on  the  reasons  which 
really  moved  him  to  this  singular  resolution.  Enough  thai 
this  is  only  the  romance  of  history,  and  that  the  choice  was 
actually  made  under  the  circumstances  related,  though  some 
of  the  doubters  may  whistle  incredulously,  as  did  Captain 
Jack  in  the  first  moment  of  his  surprise.  Perhaps  the  clerk 
had  no  other  motive  than  the  one  alleged— his  desire  not  to 
enter  upon  any  responsibility  for  which  he  was  not  thoroughly 
fitted.  Perhaps  he  had  another  and  rarer  feeling— an  after- 
thought of  that  which  heliad  uttered  to  his  wife  in  their  bed- 
chamber,—that  his  sacrifice  for  the  honor  of  his  native  laid 
would  not  be  all  that  was  demanded  of  him,  if  he  allowed 
himself  to  accept  command  over  others  and  become  anything 
naore  than  a  mere  soldier.  Perhaps  he  had  a  more  selfish 
motive— a  belief  that  the  true  spirit  and  romance  of  war 
were  to  be  found  by  the  camp-fire  and  in  the  rough  comraderv 
of  the  common  soldier,  instead  of  in  the  tent  of  the  officer,— 
and  that  he  connected  himself  with  the  Fire  Zouave   reei- 


146  THE      D  A  YS      0  F      S  II  0  DDT. 

ment,  when  the  suggestion  was  made  to  him,  because  be 
believed  that  the  most  splendid  dash  of  the  service  would  he 
found  in  their  midst.  All  these  are  hypotheses.  He  did  not 
select  the  place  of  a  private,  because  it  involved  less  danger 
than  the  position  of  an  officer:  had  that  feeling  possi 
him,  he  would  not  have  enlisted  at  all.  So  much  is  certain — 
no  more. 

At  all  events,  it  is  sure  that  had  some  hundreds  of  others 
in  the  Union  service  rated  their  own  capabilities  no  higher 
than  did  the  New  York  dry-goods  clerk,  and  not  p 
themselves  forward  to  Colonelcies  and  Brigadier-Generalships 
until  they 'knew  at  least  enough  of  the  art  of  war  to  make 
them  respectable  Sergeants  or  Second  Lieutenants, — we 
should  have  wasted  fewer  lives,  spent  less  hard-won  wealth, 
and  been  nearer  to  the  end  in  view,  than  can  now  he  Bfl 
the  great  national  struggle. 


CHAPTER  YIII. 

Kate  Haviland  at  the  Fullertons' — Her  Arrival.  Ex- 
amination and  Instructions — Myra  and  Mildred,  the 
'-  Young  Wretches" — A  Story  that  was  Interrupted — 
Mrs.  Fullerton's  Law-Patters  and  "  Property  near 
Montgomery" — How  Ned  Minthorne  lost  his  Letter 
— An  Interview  between  Millionaire  and  Teacher, — 
How  Xed  Minthorne  Recovered  his  Letter. 

It  becomes  necessary  at  this  juncture,  to  pay  another  visit 
to  the  residence  of  the  Fullertons,  on  East  Twenty-third 
Street,  into  which  an  additional  element  of  interest  had  en- 
tered since  the  Sunday  evening  when  Charles  Holt  paid  it. 
that  singular  visit.  That  new  element  of  interest  was  Kate 
Haviland.  Saturday  of  the  following  week  had  come,  and 
on  the  evening  before  the  young  girl  had  reached  the  city, 
two  or  three  days  behind  her  appointed  time,  on  account  of 
the  death  and  burial  of  poor  old  Amos  Haviland,  who  now 


T  IT  E      T)  A  Y  9      0  F      S  TT  0  P  1)  Y.  147 

slept  peacefully  under  Ihe  shadow  of  that  very  spire  whence 
the  flag  bad  been  waring  that  Sunday  morning*.     She  had 

made   only  a  flying-  call  of  half  an  hour  at  the  house  of  her 

cousin,  where  she  romped  with  little  Pet — set  Mary  first  to 
looking  glum  once  more  over  the  idea  of  her  husband  going 
away  at  all.  and  then  to  laughing  over  the  figure  which  she 
was  sure  he  would  cut  in  the  short  jacket  and  baggy  trousers 
of  the  Zouave — and  put  Sarah  Sanderson  into  an  ill  humor 
for  a  week  by  caricaturing  some  of  the  peculiar  friends  whom 
that  young  lady  had  left  behind  her  at  Duffsboro.  That  done, 
she  had  ''reported  for  duty,"  as  she  militarily  expressed  it, 
at  Mrs!  Fullerton's,  ami.  spent  the  evening  in  such  an  exam- 
ination at  the  hands  (or  more  properly  tongues)  of  that  esti- 
mable lady  and  her  accomplished  daughter,  as  would  have 
put  most  girls  of  her  age  out  of  countenance  as  well  as  out 
of  temper, — but  which  said  examination,  with  the  arrogant 
instructions  accompanying  it,  had  produced  precisely  the  same 
injurious  effect  on  the  temper  and  spirits  of  Kate  Haviland, 
that  would  be  achieved  against  the  physical  integrity  of  one 
of  the  new  iron-clads  by  bombarding  it  with  putty  pellets 
from  a  pop-gun. 

Mrs.  Fullerton,  accompanied  by  Dora,  had  taken  her  up 
into  the  nursery  and  school-room,  thirty  minutes  after  her 
arrival  and  before  she  had  found  time  to  more  than  half  swal- 
low her  light  supper, — and  subjected  her  to  a  series  of  ques- 
tions iu  grammar  and  geography  which  showed  that  the 
mother  must  lately  have  been  M  reading  up"  in  the  children's 
books,  and  yet  that  she  did  not  quite  know  the  difference  be- 
tween a  noun  and  a  participle,  or  have  any  very  definite  im- 
pression whether  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  did  or  did  not  pro- 
ject into  the  Bay  of  Fundy.  This  duty  clone  and  the* answers 
of  the  catechumen  being  received  as  satisfactory  (we  regret 
to  say  that  they  were  considerably  more  quizzical  than  cor- 
rect, in  several  instances) — both  mother  and  daughter  had. 
taken  a  hand  at  catechizing  her  as  to  her  political  sentiments, 
and  impressing  upon  her  the  enormity  of  holding  any  belief 
at  variance  with  the  divine  right  of  a  Virginian  or  a  Sooth 
Carolinian  to  ride  booted  and  spurred  over  the  universe,  and 
the  superior  sacred ness  of  black  slavery  over   Christianity 


148  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

m  B  hearen 'appointed  institution.  Mischievous  nnd  politic 
Kate,  who  really  did  not  care  one  snap  of  her  nimble  white 
finger  for  the  whole  question  at  issue  between  Ibe  abolitionists 
and  the  pro-slarery  zealots,  however  well  she  understood  the 
peril  of  the   country  and   reprobated  the  wieked  madn< 

-ion,— mischievous  Kate  had  at  once  realized  into  what 
a  nest  of  ignorant  Southern  prejudice  (perhaps  of  secession 

m)  she  had  dropped — thought  for  one  moment  of  aban- 
doning a  place  so  uncongenial,  then  concluded  that  tin-  situa- 
tion would  be  rather  funny  than  otherwise,  at  least  for  a 
time — taken  her  cue  and  made  her  responses  accordingly. 

When  asked  by  Mrs.  Fullerton  whether  she  had  ever  been 
in  the  South  and  seen  any  of  the  dear  happy  negroes  in  los- 
ing attendance  on  the  proprietors  who  took  such  tender  care 
of  them — she  had  replied  at  once  that  she  was  born  among 
slaves,  in  one  of  the  Middle  States  that  had  not  yet  quite 
abolished  the  institution  ;  and  she  had  improvised  for  the 
occasion  a  dear  old  black  nurse  who  had  carried  her  in  her 
arms  and  held  a  good  deal  more  of  her  love  than  her  own 
father  and  mother.  When  interrogated  by  the  same  lady  as 
to  what  she  knew  of  fiinton  Rowan  Helper's  "Impending 
Crisis,"  that  book  falser  than  Munchausen  and  more  injurious 
than  the  "Age  of  Reason''  (such  were  the  lady's  words) — 
she  had  replied  with  an  inquiry  whether  it  was  a  novel  or  a  re- 
cipe-book— a  query  quite  re-assuring  to  the  catechist.  When 
Dora  put  in  a  question  as  to  her  reading  of  the  Tribune,  she 
had  had  no  scruples  of  conscience  whatever  against  saying  that 
she  never  opened  that  sheet,  unless  she  wanted  wrapping- 
paper  or  something  to  light  a  fire.  And  when  the  same  ener- 
getic young  lady  inquired  of  her  whether  she  had  ever  read 
''Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  which  she  further  characterized, 
parenthetically,  as  "  a  mess  of  ridiculous  stuff,  proving  that  the 
writer  had  never  been  in  the  South  for  a  single  day," — the 
reply  of  Kate  (who  had  really  wasted  two  days  and  nights 
in  reading  and  crying  over  that  most  effective  piece  of  un- 
scrupulous imagination  set  down  for  reality),  had  been  that 
she  once  found  the  book  lying  on  the  window-sill,  read  two 
pages  of  it  and  then  threw  both  volumes  into  the  mud-gutter. 
It  remains  to  be  seen  what  entry  the  recording  angel  had 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  1 19 

made  against  the  late  country  school-mistress  for  these  atro- 
cious departures  from  veracity  :  she  had  not  herself  felt  any 

the  worse  after  them,  and  they  had  answered  the  purpose  of 
platting  two  very  anxious  ladies  into  such  beatific  satisfaction 
that  they  would  sleep  like  humming-tops. 

This  catechism  concluded  and  all  the  replies  found  emi- 
nently satisfactory,  the  dignified  lady  had  condescended  to 
explain  to  her  new  dependant  the  reasons  why  she  was  so 
searching  in  her  inquiries.  She  wished  it  to  be  understood, 
she  said,  that  her  family  were  none  of  the  miserable 
canaille  (she  did  not  use  that  word,  but  another  much 
rougher  and  signifying  very  nearly  the  same  thing)  of  the 
North,  and  she  could  not  under  any  circumstances  permit 
the  tender  minds  of  her  young  children  to  be  tainted  with 
disgraceful  principles  that  might  afterwards  need  to  be  eradi- 
cated at  the  cost  of  severe  suffering.  Her  family  was 
wealthy,  as  every  one  understood,  and  she  was  willing  to  pay 
the  governess  liberally  for  any  services  rendered  ;  but  she 
must  be  allowed  to  designate  precisely  what  those  services 
should  be,  and  she  must  insist  upon  unquestioning  obedience 
to  her  requirements.  To  which  she  added  that  the  poor  dear 
children  were  not  cart-horses,  and  must  not  be  overworked 
or  ill-treated,  but  dealt  with  as  became  their  birth  and  statiou. 
To  which  Dora  added,  parenthetically,  that  if  those  children 
were  not  kept  in  better  order  than  they  had  been  by  the 
former  governess,  and  made  to  pay  more  attention  to  their 
lessons,  there  would  be  occasion  for  a  very  hasty  settlement 
some  morning,  which  she  hoped  that  Miss  Haviland' (tos's  of 
the  head  accompanying  the  polite  prefix)  would  wish  to 
avoid. 

Did  there  exist  any  one  else  in  the  world,  we  wonder,  of 
the  age  and  tastes  of  Kate  Haviland,  who,  seeing  and  hear- 
ing all  this  and  learning  what  was  the  atmosphere  of  the 
household  she  had  entered,  would  not  have  fled  from  it  as 
from  a  pestilence — even  kilted  her  skirts  and  rushed  away 
through  the  dusk,  before  sleeping  one  night  in  an  air  so  un- 
congenial and  threatening  1  Perhaps  not ;  but  as  for  Kate 
Haviland,    her   only  comment  on    the  increasingly-pleasant 


150  TUE      DAYS      OF      SHO  D  D  Y. 

•pments  of  character  had  been  a  mental  one,  shaped  into 
words  something  like  the  following: 

"A  nice,  pleasant   family,   I   fancy  !     And  won't  I  have  a, 
Ime  among  you  !     But  won't  there  be  fun.  one  of  these 
days,  and  won't  you  have  a  nice  time  of  it  with  ?/< 

Her  reply  to  the  injunctions  of  the  respectable  and  dignified 

matron  and  her  daughter  had  not  been  by  any  means  it 
lengthy  or  circumlocutious  one,  but  one  which  some  of  us 
have  crewhile  known  to  throw  a  gabbling  termagant  into 
worse  rage  than  could  have  been  induced  by  applying  to  her 
half  the  hard  words  in  the  language.  Sweeping  all  the 
injunctions  and  all  the  insinuations  up  into  one  imposing  heap, 
bad  recognized,  accepted  and  crowned  the  grand  total 
by  the  utterance  of  the  comprehensive  assent  : 

"  Yes,  ma'am  I"1 

Then  Mrs.  Fullerton  and  her  daughter,  informing  her  that 
she  would  not  be  required  to  assume  any  charge  over  her 
pupils  until  the  following  day,  that  they  had  already  re- 
tired and  could  not  be  seen  that  night,  and  that  by  follow- 
ing the  servant  she  would  find  her  sleeping-room, — had 
swept  away.  Kate  had  heeded  the  injunction,  found  a  neat- 
enough  little  room  on  the  third  floor  fitted  up  for  her  reception, 
and  found — not  the  repose  of  the  innocent,  for  had  she  not  been 
telling  terrible  fibs  ? — but  the  rest  of  a  young  girl  remarkably 
easy  in  her  own  conscience,  remarkably  careless  of  Mime 
things  that  would  have  been  great  vexatious  to  others,  and 
altogether  bored,  bothered  and  sleepy. 

The  morning  had  introduced  her  to  her  charges,  Myra  and 
Mildred,  and  opened  to  her  one  more  new  chapter  in  expe- 
rience. She  had  found  Myra  a  tall,  awkward  girl  of  eleven, 
with  Dora's  light  hair  and  dark  eyes,  and  the  promise  of  being 
very  like  her,  both  in  good  looks  and  arrogance,  when  she 
grew  older.  Mildred  she  had  found  a  plumper  and  browner 
child  of  nine,  with  hair  darker  and  a  little  more  decided  in  its 
wave,  less  arrogance,  more  affection,  more  pertness  and  mis- 
chief, and  every  indication  of  being  quite  as  much  trouble  to 
manage,  as  the  other.  She  bad  found  both  hopelessly  and 
wretchedly  ignorant,  whether  from  the  incapacity  of  the 
person  who  preceded  her  (the  children  had  been  too  precious, 


T  JI  E       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  151 

all  the  while,  and  their  blood  too  much  distinguished  above 
that  of  ordinary  mortals,  to  go  either  to  a  public  or  even  a 
private  school) — or  the  fact  that  the  family  arrangements 
made  teaching  them  impossible.  The  mother  had  been  too 
busy  with  her  own  plans  and  projects,  and!  Bora  too  mm  h 
removed  from  sympathy  with  them  by  difference  of  age  (the 
children  were,  in  point  of  fact,  a  sort  of  unexpected  second 
crop  on  the  Fullerton  clover-field) — that  neither  had  paid 
them  any  attention  except  to  "  humor,"  scold  and  slap — three 
very  necessary  operations,  no  doubt,  in  family  management, 
but  scarcely  enough  without  other  accompaniments.  They 
had  been  smattered  with  (no  other  word  than  this  new  one 
will  express  the  fact)  in  the  primary  branches,  in  grammar, 
geography,  history,  philosophy,  and  even  in  French,  without 
acquiring  enough  solid  knowledge  to  be  able  to  write  one  line 
intelligibly  or  add  three  figures  correctly.  Kate  Ilaviland, 
bringing  them  with  her  into  the  little  school-room  in  the 
morning  (a  back  apartment  on  the  third  floor,  plainly  car- 
peted, with  walnut  furniture,  two  writing  desks,  a  small  case 
for  school-books  and  a  map  of  the  United  States  on  the  wall) 
— had  seated  the  little  people  in  the  best  manner  that  a  total 
unwillingness  to  obey  permitted,  attempted  to  put  them 
through  their  educational  paces,  found  the  state  of  affairs  as 
before  indicated,  and  discovered,  within  fifteen  minutes,  that 
any  further  attempt  at  enlightening  their  minds  would  be 
labor  worse  than  wasted,  until  she  could  succeed  in  acquiring 
some  kind  of  personal  influence,  whether  of  love,  respect  or 
fear,  over  them. 

To  this  end,  dropping  the  grammar  with  which  she  had 
been  muddling  their  unregulated  brains  while  vexing  her 
own,  just  at  the  moment  when  we  have  occasion  again  to 
enter  unbidden  into  the  Fullerton  abode,  she  dropped  sud- 
denly from  her  chair  into  a  sitting  position  on  the  carpet, 
drew  one  of  the  children  down  on  each  side  of  her,  and  com- 
menced to  teach  a  primary  school  in  her  manner. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  a  story,  girls,  instead  of  bothering  with 
those  dreadful  old  books  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  yes,  tell  us  a  story?"  shouted  little  Mildred, 
enough  of  the  child,  as  yet,  to  be  fond  of  hearing  personal 


152  T  II  E      1)AYS      OF      BflODM, 

narrations,  though  old  enough'  to  have  a  shrewd  suspicion, 
all  the  while,  that  most  of  them  were  unadulterated  libs. 
*•  Yes.  tell  ub  a  story  !'' 

"Once  upon  a  time,  then/'  began  the  model  school-mis- 
tress, her  wealth  of  chestnut  hair  half  down  about  her  ears, 
her  handsome  face  alb  aglow  with  mingled  mischief  and  the 
desire  of  pleasing  and  winning  the  children,  each  arm  around 
the  waist  of  a  pupil,  and  her  body  rocking  them  and  herself 
backward  and  forward  after  a  fashion  that  no  natural  school-* 
girl  will  need  to  have  .explained — "once  14)011  a  time  there 
was  a  man  who  had  two  children.  They  were  both  girls, 
very  pretty,  and  about  the  age  of  little  Myra  and  Mildred — "' 

"That's  uafi*  put  in  Mildred,  displaying  her  early  gram- 
mar in  what  Sam  Wellef  would  have  called  the  "  ohserwa- 
tion." 

" — They  were  about  the  age  of  little  Myra  and  Mildred,** 
the  teacher  went  on,  "and  I  don't  know  but  they  may  have 
looked  a  little  like  two  girls  who  have  those  very  pretty 
names.  Well,  one  day  there  came  a  nice-looking  lady  into 
the  garden  where  they  were  playing,  and  showed  them  a  box 
full  of  gold  and  jewels,  that  .-he  would  give  them  if  they 
would  take  a  number  of  pretty  books  that  she  had  in  a  little 
satchel,  and  learn  them  all  by  heart." 

"Oh,  Jeminy  !"  cried  little  Mildred,  again.  "Wouldn't  / 
have  read  the  books,  though,  if  1  could  get  lots  of  gold  and 
di'mond  jewels  by  doin'  it  !     Wouldn't  you.  Myra  '.'" 

"  I  don't  know,''  answered  that  very  upright  young  lady 
of  eleven,  who  had  not,  so  far,  been  at  all  captivated. 
*•  Never  mind  her — go  on,  if  you  are  going  to  tell  the 
story  !"  This  to  Kate,  and  with  an  air  of  command  which 
would  not  badly  have  become  the  dignified  head  of  the  estab- 
lishment The  subject  of  the  peremptory  order  took  a  glance 
at  her,  smiled  without  being  observed  by  either  of  the  chil- 
dren, and  went  on  : 

" — If  they  studied  the  books  and  learned  all  their  lessons, 
they  were  not  only  to  have  the  gold  and  jewels,  but  be  al- 
lowed to  put  them  on  and  go  out  into  a  beautiful  grove 
where  there  were  brooks  of  clear  water,  and  the  birds  sing- 


THE      DAYS      OP      SHODDY.  153 

ing,  and  the  sunshine  on  the  grass,  and  the  trees  waving, 
and  every  thing  that  was  pleasant  and  beautiful." 

"Oh,  Jemmy  I"  again  cried  Mildred,  who  seemed  to  have 
adopted  that  as  her  standard  adjuration.  "  Wouldn't  that 
have  been  nice  !  Now  1  know  that  I  should  have  read  the 
books — or  made  believe  I  had  read  them  1"  and  here  the  na- 
ture so  early  warped  peeped  out  in  the  most  melancholy 
manner  possible  to  conceive.  Deception  in  people  of  older 
years  is  terrible,  and  falsehood  indefensible  except  under  cir- 
eil instances  that  change  the  very  nature  of  the  act.  But  in 
the  young  it  is  simply  heart-sickening — the  most  tin-natural 
thing  in  all  nature.  Innate  depravity  is  an  injurious  humbug : 
the  little  ones  come  to  us  from  the  hand  of  (rod,  with  the 
gloss  of  the  early  leaves  and  the  fragrance  of  the  blossoms — ■ 
so  nearly  pure  that  of  themselves  they  will  never  develop 
serious  evil  or  wanton  falsehood.  They  have  the  latent  capa- 
bility's for  evil ;  and  these,  which  could  no  more  spring-  up  and 
grow  and  bear  fruit  than  the  seed  in  the  ground  could  do, 
without  air  and  sunshine — these  we  of  older  years  develop 
in  them.  Every  broken  promise  made  by  a  mother  to  her 
child — every  punishment  threatened,  or  reward  ottered,  by  a 
father,  and  never  fulfilled — is  something  to  develop  this  most 
forward  of  the  evil  germs,  falsehood.  Think  of  it,  fathers 
and  mothers,  when  you  make  promises  to  your  children  that 
you  never  intend  to  fulfil,  or  utter  in  their  presence  what  they 
must  know  to  be  falsehoods  ! — think  of  it ;  and  if  the  day 
should  come  when  the  daughter  of  your  love  refuses  to 
bestow  her  confidence  upon  you,  deceives  you,  and  starts 
upon'some  dangerous  course  with  your  hand  made  powerless 
to  restrain  her, — or  if  the  son  of  your  pride  makes  his  life, 
his  hopes  and  his  troubles  a  secret  from  you,  so  that  you  can 
hold  no  steadying  hand  over  the  first  tottering  steps  of  his 
career  in  the  world, — know  that  you  are  reaping  what  you 
have  sown  in  the  promises  broken  and  the  shallow  deceptions 
practised  towards  imitative  childhood  ! 

All  this  because  little  Mildred  indicated  that  she  might 
possibly  have  deceived  the  pretty  lady  as  to  her  learning  the 
lessons  set  her  !  Yes,  all  this,  and  yet  not  too  much  upon  a 
subject  which  concerns  every  father  and  mother  in  the  uni- 


154:  t  h  e    j>  a  y  a    op    s  h  o  t>  d  y . 

verse,  and  of  which  the  understanding  and  the  action  sjirintr 
ing  from  it,  must  continue  its  influence  when  the  now  pre* 
eminent  troubles  of  .Secretary  Seward,  and  Lord  Lyons,  and 
Prince  Gortschakoff,  and  Count  Montholon,*  shall  have  bet 
come  mere  insignificant  specks  in  the  far  distance  of  time. 

However  this  discovery  of  the  Fullerton   code  of  m 
may  have  shocked  Kate   Ilavilaud   and  given   her  an   a 
tional  insight  into  the  labor  which  would  be  required  to  make 
those  young  people  anything  more  than  intellectual  savagi  -. 
it  did  not  seriously  interrupt  her  story.     She  went  on  : 

— " If  they  didn't  study  their  lessons  and  learn  what  the 

pretty  lady  had  told  them  to  learn,  they  were  not  to  have  any 

of  the  gold  or  jewels,  or  to  go  out  into  the  beautiful  grove  at 

all,  and  a  big  black  man — oh,  so  big  and  black,  was  to  come 

'  and  carry  them  away  into  a  great  dark  pit,  and — " 

How  this  interesting  story  would  eventually  have  ended, 
and  how  the  young  school-teacher  might  have  gone  on  to 
explain,  after  a  while,  that  the  pretty  lady  was  Knowledge, 
the  gold  and  jewels  the  blessings  of  Intelligence,  the  beauti- 
ful grove  the  World  to  those  capable  of  enjoying  it,  the  black 
mau  Ignorance,  and  the  dark  pit  the  blindness  and  misery  of 
the  untaught, — how  all  this  might,  could,  would  or  should 
have  occurred  (to  borrow  a  little  of  the  teacher's  own  phrase- 
ology in  the  study  of  grammar) — will  probably  never  be 
known.  There  wua  an  interruption,  a  little  more  effectual 
than  that  of  a  moment  previous  ;  for  at  this  stage  of  the 
proceedings  the  dignified  Myra,  who  had  not  indulged  in 
many  criticisms  on  the  story,  caught  the  name  of  the  big 
black  man,  and  fancied  that  she  had  made  a  terrible  disco  very, 
wliich  she  signified  b}T  exclaiming,  very  loudly  and  deci- 
sively : 

"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it !  It  is  a  nasty,  black  Aboli- 
tion lie  !" 

There  is  no  intention  whatever  on  the  part  of  the  writer, 
to  depict  an  angelic  character  in  Kate  Ilaviland,  a  real  per- 
sonage— no  saint,  certainly,  but  a  very  nice  little  sinner  !_ 
Had  such  been  the  intention,  her  fibs  of  the  night  before 
would  have  been  carefully  kept  from  view.     She  was  a  merry, 

*  September,  1S63. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  155 

rattling,  wide-awake  (to  use  another  Blight  vulgarism)  and 
whole-hearted  girl,  capable  of  a  great  deal  of  good   and  a 

small  proportion  of  evil,  hut  tiery  human,  as  Lady  Alice 
Hawthorne  exclaims  when  the  kiss  sne  has  been  expecting 

seems  to  linger  on  its  way.  She  had  temper — plenty  of  it  ; 
ami  determination — as  those  may  he  made  aware  who  do  her 
the  justice  to  follow  out  her  career.  The  only  difference  be- 
tween this  young  lady  and  many  others  who  seem  to  be  half 
the  time  angry  and  the  other  half  unhappy,  while  she  enjoyed 
life  with  the  same  zest  which  is  supposed  to  tingle  through  a 
harp-string, — is  that  she  kept  her  temper  for  great  occasions 
and  was  sunny  and  full  of  enjoyment  the  rest  of  the  time, 
while  they  fritter  away  their  angry  force  in  continued  little 
driblets  of  ill-nature.  On  the  present  occasion,  one  drop  too 
much  of  the  Fullerton  gall  had  been  suddenly  poured  into 
her  cup. 

11  Do  you  say  that  to  me,  you  minx  !"  were  all  the  words 
tittered;  but  her  two  hands,  small  enough  but  by  no  means 
powerless,  caught  the  offending  hoyden  by  the  two  shoulders, 
and  in  the  space  of  twenty  seconds  she  received  such  a  shak- 
ing as  set  her  teeth  chattering,  her  breath  coming  short,  her 
eyes  full  of  angry  tears,  and  herself  very  nearly  tumbling  out 
of  her  clothes!  It  is  just  possible  that  the  young  teacher, 
who  seldom  applied  either  hand  or  rod  in  the  way  of  correc- 
tion, had  before  practised  the  same  punishment  on  some  re- 
fractory boy  at  her  little  school  in  the  country,  and  found  it 
very^eifectual ;  for  she  seemed  to  shake  with  a  will.  The 
child  thought  so,  and  under  the  impression  that  she  might 
possibly  be  shaken  to  death  before  the  operation  closed,  con- 
cluded to  submit  (at  least  for  the  time),  and  whimpered  out, 
as  well  as  the  shaking  would  allow : — 

"  Please — don't — shake  me — so — and — I  won't — say — so-o- 
o — again  !" 

But  little  Mildred,  who  was  generally  in  a  fight  or  a  quarrel 
with  her  sister,  did  not  wish  to  see  her  harshly  treated*  by  any 
one  else,  and  blurted  out : — 

"  You  nasty  thing  !     I'll  tell  my  mother  !" 

There  might  have  been  a  corresponding  shaking  in  store 
for  Miss  Mildred,  for  the  governess  was  not  at  all  likely  to 


156  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

mince  matters  when  Bhe  had  commenced;  but  at  that  moment 
another  interruption  in  the  programme  occurred. 

About  an  hour  previous  to  the  time  of  this  eeeurrence,  Mr. 

Ned  Minthorne,  millionaire  and  noodle,  walking  his  morning 
rounds  of  inanity,  called  at  the  Fullertons'  as  he  seldom 
failed  to  do  charing  some  hour  of  the  twenty-four,  every  day 
when  he  was  in  town.     He  found  Mrs.  Fullerton  just  sealing 

in  a  large  envelope  a  letter  which  had  an  inner  directed  en- 
velope around  it.  Mrs.  Fullerton  seemed  to  color,  became 
flustered  a  little,  then  accepted  the  situation  and  threu  off  all 
embarrassment  Why  should  she  be  embarrassed,  m  fact, 
before  a  person  so  low  in  mental  calibre  as  Ned  Minthorne, 
and  one  who  lay  so  completely  under  the  thumbs  of  herself 
and  daughter?  At  last  her  daughter  and  herself  held  a  mo- 
ment of  whispered  conversation  (excellent  treatment  of  the 
morning  visitor !)  and  then  the  mother  somewhat  hesitatingly 
opened  a  conversation  which  may  be  stated  as  follows  : — 

"Mr.  Minthorne,  my  daughter  and  myself  have  concluded 
to  make  a  confidant  of  you." 

"Very  much  obliged,  madam,  I  am  sure,"  answered  Min- 
thorne, in  his  own  feeble  way,  apparently  very  little  enlight- 
ened and  not  much  enraptured  by  this  striking  proof  of  per- 
sonal esteem. 

"  Pray  be  seated,"  said  Mrs.  Fullerton,  indicating  a  chair. 
The  visitor  took  one,  and  the  lady  another,  while  Miss  Dora, 
who  affected  soft  seats,  dropped  upon  the  sofa  as  usual. 

"  Perhaps  you  had  rather  speak  to  Mr.  Minthorne,  my 
dear  ?"  said  the  mother,  inquiringly,  when  this  arrangement 
for  personal  comfort  was  concluded. 

"  Xo — speak  to  him  yourself,"  answered  the  daughter,  not 
too  respectfully,  and  as  if  the  whole  thing  bored  her  a  little. 

"Very  well,  my  dear,"  said  the  mother.  '"Mr.  Minthorne, 
you  have  now  been  for  so  long  a  time  a  frequent  visitor  at 
this  house,  that  you  cannot  be  ignorant  of  our  position  or 
sentiments." 

Mr.  Ned  Minthorne  would  have  done  no  violence  to  the 
truth  by  saying  that  if  he  did  not  know  the  sentiments  of 
that  particular  family,  on  almost  every  subject,  the  ignorance 
must  be  his  own  fault,  as  he  had   had  all  the   possible  varia- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  157 

tions  seolded,  whined  ot  wiept  into  him,  first  and  last.  ITe 
said  nothing  o€  this  kind,  however  (how  could  lie — the  gilded 

calf — the  nobody  ?,)  and  merely  replied;  in  the  most  natural 
(tool?)  manner  in  the  world,  that  "he  hoped  he  was  not  a 
Stranger — that  was — to  the  feelings  and  sentiments  of  .Mrs. 
Fullerton  and  her  estimable  daughter — she  knew," 

"I  am  very  glad  to  lind  that  you  understand  us  so  well," 
said  Mrs.  Fullerton,  with  a  permissible  bridling-  at  tlie  com- 
plimentary word.  "  That  will  make  every  thing  easier. 
Among  other  things  you  understand,  sir,  of  course,  that  my 
daughter  and  myself  are  entirely  Southern  in  feeling?" 

Mr.  Minthorne,  who  might  have  made  the  same  energetic 
statement  that  he  did  know  that  interesting  fact,  merely  as- 
sented in  a  manner  quite  as  satisfactorily  vacuous  as  he  had 
shown  in  his  reply  to  the  previous  question. 

"  We  have  extensive  property  in  the  South,"  the  lady  went 
on  to  say,  "  and  of  course  our  interests  lie  there.  The  aboli- 
tionists have  brought  on  a  war  against  South  Carolina  and 
the  other  Southern  republics,*  and  of  course  poor  weak  women 
like  my  daughter  and  myself  can  do  nothing  to  stop  it;  but 
we  can  feel,  sir,  feel!  Men  of  your  family  and  position  feel 
with  us,  the  disgrace  of  this  abolition  outrage;")"  and  they 
owjhl  to  assist  us  in  doing  what  little  we  can  do  to  revenge 
it.  I  mean,1'  and  here  the  lady  flushed  a  little,  again,  and 
corrected  herself — "  I  mean  that  they  should  do  nothing  to 
help  carry  out  the  schemes  of  the  abolitionists.  Do  you  not 
think  so  ?" 

"  Certainly, -madam,"  was  the  reply  of  the  millionaire,  who, 
if  he  had  not  brains  enough  to  understand  the  whole  drift  of 
the  "Southern  matron's"  remarks,  could  at  least  take  in  and 
answer  the  last  simple  question. 


*  See  "The  History  of  South  Carolina,  from  its  First  European  Discovery 
to  its  Erection  into  a  Republic,"  etc.  By  William  Gillmore  Simms.  Pub- 
lished by  Kediield,  New  York,  1360. 

f  If  Mrs.  Fullerton  and  her  family  use  the  phrase  "abolition"  somewhat 
too  often,  the  fault  does  not  lie  with  the  writer.  The  ultra  pro-slavery  Soufh 
has  had  no  other  adjective,  except  the  corresponding  one,  "incendiary."  lor 
many  a  long  year,  fit  to  apply  to  any  man  or  any  measure  not  especially 
pledged  to  keep  all  the  offices  in  the  hands  of  the  fire-eaters.  And  the  good 
lady's  dictionary,  as  we  have  already  seen,  was  not  likely  to  be  very  copious 
in  synonyms. 


158  TIIE      DAYS      OF      SIIOPPY. 

"We  have  property  down  in  Alabama,  not  far  from  Mont- 
gomery," continued  Mrs.  Pullerton,  "and  in  order  that  it  may 
not  be  confiscated,  it  is  necessary  that — that — my  lawyer  and 
myself  should  hold  a  little  intercourse  with  people  in  that 
neighborhood.     That  is  right  and  natural,  is  it  not  tn 

"Perfectly  right  and  natural,''  answered  the  millionaire, 
almost  as  sententiousjy  (because  the  words  were  already  set 
for  him)  as  if  he  had  been  a  man  of  ordinary  common  sense  ! 

"They  tell  me  that  by  the  Baboon's  proclamation"  (this 
-was  the  name  by  which  the  Southern  lady  dignified  the  Pre- 
sident of  the  United  States) — "it  is  against  the  law  to  hold 
any  communication  whatever  with  those  States  which  belong  to 
the — which  have,  that  is,  seceded.  Now  is  nut  that  hard  ? 
]  ask  you,  Mr.  Minthome,  as  a  friend  of  my  family1,"  and  here 
she  glanced  over  to  the  sofa,  where  the  fine  form  of  Dora  was 
artistically  displayed,  as  if  she  regarded  her  as  the  all-suilieient 
attraction  and  the  millionaire  as  something  more  than  a  mere 
"friend  of  the  family," — "I  ask  you  if  that  is  not  hard,  and 
wrong  ?" 

The  lady's  voice  was  broken,  and  if  there  were  no  tears  in 
her  eyes,  there  was  certainly  an  appearance  that  they  could 
be  called  there  with  very  little  effort,  when  she  contemplated 
the  bitter  injustice  of  the  government  and  the  peril  of  her 
property  "near  Montgomery";  and  it  is  no  marvel  that  Ned 
Minthome,  ninny  as  he  was.  raised  sufficient  spunk  to  >ay, 
without  half  so  much  drawl  as  usual  in  his  tone,  and  even 
bringing  his  hand  down  on  his  knee  with  a  slap  that  must 
have  tingled,  as  he  spoke: 

"  Madam,  the  man  that  would  keep  you  and  your  daughter 
from  Montgomery — that  is — I  mean  from  your  property 
there, — ought  to  be — I  can't  say  exactly,  but — I  don't  know 
what  ought  to  be  done  with  him  !" 

The  mother  accepted  the  sympathy,  and  the  daughter,  by 
this  time  curled  up  on  the  sofa  in  what  is  sometimes  desig- 
nated as  a  "kittenish"  way  (beware  of  the  claws  of  people, 
especially  female  people,  who  assume  the  ways  of  the  kitten!) — 
even  she  deigned  to  bestow  a  look  upon  her  faithful  adorer, 
congratulating  herself  on  the  fact  that  he  was  not  quite  an 


T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  159 

absolute  nobody,  after  all,  even  if  he  had  been  born  in  the 
North  and  born  a  fool. 

"  I  see  that  you  fully  understand  and  appreciate  our  posi- 
tion," said  the  lady,  "and  so  I  can  have  no  delicacy  about 
Bpeaking  the  rest  of  my  mind  to  you.  Every  few  days  I  have 
papers  to  send  down,  from — from  my  lawyer,  to " 

"  Tut,  tut  !  Confound  it  !  I  knew  who  your  lawyer  was 
not  long-  ago.  Let  me  see — what  is  his  name  ?"  inquired 
Minthorne,  corrugating  his  brows  in  a  terrible  effort  to  re- 
member, and  yet  with  something  in  his  tone  that  the  matron 
did  not  altogether  like.  She  took  one  long,  keen  glance  at 
him  from  under  her  brows,  but  saw  nothing  to  awaken  any 
more  unpleasant  impression, — before  she  replied  : 

"  Oh,  Mr. ,"  and  she  mentioned  a  name   that  could  not 

have  been  found  in  the  Legal  Directory  for  1861,  one  w  hit 
more  than  it  could  to-day.  But  Minthorne,  the  do-nothing, 
was  not  likely  to  know  much  about  the  names  of  all  the  law- 
yers in  New  York  City;   and  so  what  was  the  difference  ? 

"Ah,  oh,  yes,  I  remember,"  was  the  satisfactorily  stupid 
reply  of  the  man  who  had  had  the  wrinkles  in  his  brow. 

"As  I  was  going  to  say,"  the  lady  went  on,  apparently  not 
over  well  pleased  at  the  interruption,  after  all, — "  I  have  some 
papers  to  send  down  every  few  days,  and  they  are  taking  so 
much  pains  to  stop  every  thing  and  watch  everybody,  and 
there  is  so  much  trouble  along  the  railroads"  (they  had  begun 
to  burn  bridges  at  Big  Gunpowder)  "  that  really  I  do  not 
know,  sometimes,  how  I  can  get  any  through  at  all.  And 
this  was  what  I  wanted  to  consult  you  about.  Here  is  a  little 
package  of  law  papers,  that  I  am  very  anxious  to  get  down 
at  once,  and  I  really  do  not  know  how  to  send  them.  Would 
it  be  putting  you  to  too  much  trouble,  if  I  should  ask  you  to 
get  some  friend  of  yours  who  is  going  to  Washington,  to  take 
this,  and  allow  no  one  to  see  it,  and  leave  it  at  the  address 
there  ?  It  can  easily  enough  get  down,  I  believe,  from  Wash- 
ington." 

"  Of  course  not — certainly  not — I  will  see  that  it  is  deliv- 
ered by  some  one  of  my  friends  going  down — that  is,  if  I  do 
not  go  down  myself.  A  fellow  wants  to  see  all  that  is  going 
on,  you   know   and   1  may  go  down  myself  to-morrow,"  an- 


1  BO  THE      I"»  A  Y  S      OF      S  H  0  D  D  Y 

swered  tlio  noodle,  taking  the  large  letter  and  sticking  it  into 
his  skirt  pocket  without  even  troubling  himself  about  the  ad- 
dress; ami  his  whole  manner  falling-,  in  the  speech,  into  sucn 
a  very  near  approach  to  idiocy,  that  Dora  Fulle'rton  looked  at 
liim  once  more  from  her  place  on  the  sofa,  and  wondered  how- 
she  could  have  held  a  particle  of  even  temporary  respe 
him  a  few  moments  before — he  was  such  an  absolute,  unmiti- 
gated, irredeemable  golden  calf. 

A  few  moments  later,  after  saluting  the  mistress  of  the 
establishment  with  that  empressement  which  was  so  eminently 
her  due,  and  kissing  the  hand  of  Miss  Dora,  who  received  the 
homage  with  what  she  regarded  as  the  native  dignity  of  a 
queen — Ned  Minthorne  left  the  house,  perhaps  to  look  for  the 
friend  who  was  to  carry  Mrs.  Fullerton's  law  papers  to  "Wash- 
ington on  their  way  to  Montgomery,  perhaps  to  arrange  for 
going  himself,  perhaps  merely  to  kill  a  little  more  time  before 
strolling  homeward  to  lunch. 

And  yet  it  was  Ned  Minthorne  who  tapped  a  few  minutes 
later  at  the  door  of  the  little  school-room,  and  who  opened  it 
the  moment  after  he  had  done  so,  just  in  time  to  effect  a  diver- 
sion in  favor  of  the  offending  rebel  children,  and  perhaps  to 
prevent, such  a  family  row  as  might  have  obliged  the  young 
school-teacher  to  leave  her  employment  and  deprived  this  nar- 
ration of  some  of  its  most  instructive  incidents. 

The  next  thing  in  order  is  to  inquire  how  he  came  there, 
and  how  he,  who  had  but  a  little  while  before  left  the  Fullerton 
mansion  for  the  day,  should  now  have  been  tapping  at  the 
door  of  the  school-room.  Was  there  an  unsuspected  acquaint- 
ance between  the  millionaire  and  th*  governess,  and  did  the 
former,  when  he  had  concluded  his  call  upon  the  members  of 
the  family  proper  and  pretended  to  leave  the  house,  really 
make  a  mere  transfer  of  himself  from  the  parlor  to  the  school- 
room ?  Not  yet — that  is,  certainly  not ;  for  the  double  reason 
that  of  course  Kate  Haviland  could  not  have  been  brought  to 
consent  to  any  thing  so  improper  and  deceptive. — and  that 
(perhaps  the  latter  is  the  better  reason  of  the  two)  the  mil- 
lionaire and  the  young  teacher  had  never' seen  each  othc 
Xo — the  mechanical  construction  of  Mr.  Ned  Minthorne's 
clothes  was  at  fault.     Pardon  the  remark,  that  is  so  regret- 


T  it  E      p  AYS      OF      *  TT  0  I>  p  y.  I fi| 

fully  mad*    in    the    interest   of  trulh    and   patience    nil  the 
extensive  manufacturers  of  that  indispensable  article  known 
as   the    sewing-machine,— but   we   have   never    understood 
the  full   meaning  of  that  gross  modern  vulgarism  "let  her 
np!"  until   instructed  by  this  great  invention.     Many  and 
various  of  our  friends  left  partially  denuded  in  the  street,  at 
times  when  the  highest  sartorial  perfection  was  desirable   bv 
the  giving  away  of  seams  that  should  have  been  enduring  as 
those  of  a  seventy -four  riding   out   a   hurricane,  and  others 
leading   portions  of  their  garments   behind   them  when    the 
whole  would   naturally  have   been   considered   better  than  a 
part      lnduce  this  side-reflection,  which  is  not  bv  anv  means 
intended    to    undervalue    the    little    brownie   without  which 
he  labors  of  the  tailor  and  the  sempstress  would  no   longer 
be   sufficient  to   clothe    an    overcrowded  world.     Ned    Min- 
thorne,  wearing  the  best,  the  newest  and  the  most  fashion- 
able garments  known   to  Broadway,  was  still  not  removed 
above  the  accidents  and  infirmities  inseparable  from  wearing 
any  clothes  whatever.      He  had  his  little  infirmities,  too,  one 
oi  wh.cn  was  attachment  to  an  occasional  coat  which  fitted  him 
more  perfectly  than  any  of  the  many  others  in  his  possession ; 
and  in  the  event  of  such  a  treasure  being  discovered,  he  some- 
times  clung  to  the   favorite   garment  for  days  in  succession 
without  having  the  tailor  look  after  the  seams. 

Such  a  reckless  course  could  only  bring  trouble,  eventuallv 
as  it  did  on  tins  occasion.  On  the  morning  of  the  interview 
with  Mrs.  Fullerton  and  her  daughter,  Mr.  Minthorne  unfor- 
tunately wore  one  of  his  pet  coats,  not  less  than  two  weeks 
in  wear  and  unexamined  as  to  the  state  of  its  seams  from  the 
day  when  it  came  from  under  the  ferruginous  and  calorific 
goose  »  One  of  his  skirt  pockets,  without  his  being  aware 
of  the  fact,  had  just  yielded  its  flimsy  pretence  of  sewing-, 
Anglice  ."ripped";  to  that  pocket  he  confided  the  missive 
entrusted  to  him  by  Mrs.  Fullerton;  and  the  consequence 
was  that  before  he  had  passed  ten  steps  through  the  hall  ou 
his  way  to  the  door,  the  precious  missive  tumbled  out  on  the 
floor  and  all  the  -  law  papers"  connected  with  the  estimable 
lady  s  <  property  near  Montgomery"  were  placed  at  the  mercy 
ot  any  unscrupulous  person  who  happened  to  pass 


162  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

The  first  "  unscrupulous  person"  chanced  to  be  Kate  Hari 
land,  who  trod  upon  the  packet  as  she  came  up  from  her  late 
breakfast,  on   her  way  to   the  school-room,  immediately  pre- 
vious to  the  occurrences  there   which  have  already  beei 
tailed.     She  saw   that   it   was  a  letter   of  considerable   size, 
which  had  evidently  been  dropped  by  accident  :  and  she  would 
at  once  have  thrown  it  in  upon  the  mantel  of  the  parlor  near 
which  it  lay.  but  being  an  unmitigated  daughter  of  El 
naturally  glanced  at  the  direction,  and  then — why  then   she 
paused    and    thought    a    little.      She    had    very  keen,   quick 
young  eyes,  the  paper  of  the  outer  envelope  was  unfortunately 
thin,  and  pressing   it  close   with   her  finger  as  Bbe  read  the 
direction  :    "  Mr.  Lionel   Taylor.  Xo.  F.    Street.   Wash- 
ington, D.  C." — she  saw,  or  thought  she  saw.  shining  through 
the  paper,  another  direction  very  like— — Ih-   could   not  make 
out  what  the  name  was,  though  something  like  "  Walk< 
"  Walters, "  as  it  was  partially  covered   by  the  outer  name; 
but   the   direction   below   happened  not  to    be  opposite  the 
other  lines   on  the   outside,  and  was  certainly  like   "  Mont- 
gomery, Alabama.  Confederate  States  of  America.'" 

It  has  been  said  that  the  young  girl  thought  "a  little." 
Perhaps  that  word  does  not  properly  indicate  the  rapid 
action  of  her  mind.  She  thought,  as  some  of  the  graphic 
story-tellers  used  to  say  of  sensations  when  one  of  them  had 
been  up  a  tree,  the  branch  breaking  and  a  bear  waiting  at 
the  bottom, — "a  good  deal  in  a  little  while."  Union  to  the 
heart's  core,  she  was  not  by  any  means  ignorant  of  the  na- 
tional daily  movements  and  the  rules  set  by  the  Government 
for  those  who  meant  to  show  themselves  good  citizens.  Here 
was  indeed  matter  for  thought.  The  people  of  the  house 
Southern  by  birth  and  education,  and  boasting  of  sentiments 
very  nearly  approaching  secession — a  letter  under  cover  to 
some  man  in  Washington,  and  really  intended  for  Mont- 
gomery, the  Capital  of  the  Seceded  States,  in  spite  of  the 
prohibition  against  any  intercourse — was  there  not  indeed 
ground  for  thought  and  suspicion  ?  Kate  Haviland  thought 
so,  as  she  resolved  her  own  course  for  the  present  by  thrust- 
ing the  package  into  the  large  pocket  of  her  dark  delaine, 
under  the  coquettish   bordered  white  apron   which  she  was 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  163 

going  t°  wear  in  the  school-room,  and  muttered,  not  loud 
enough  for  any  one  to  hear  except  those  recording  intelli- 
gences who  had  already  in  all  probability  set  down  so  heavy 
an  account  against  her  in  their  inaccessible  day-books  : — 

"If  I  do  not  smell  a  very  large  mice  here,  then  I  have  no 
nose  !  And  if  anybody  down  at  Montgomery,  Alabama,  gets 
this  letter  before  I  satisfy  myself  whether  it  does  not  Contain 
a  lot  of  treasonable  information  for  the  rebels,  I  hope  they 
will  let  me  know  !" 

Whereupon  the  yourtg  lady  betook  herself  to  the  upper 
room  and  her  duties  as  teacher,  as  we  have  seen — ap- 
parently forgetting  that  she  had  made  her  delaine  a  tem- 
porary post-office,  or  that  there  was  such  a  thing  in  the  world 
as  a  suspicious  letter. 

Mr.  Xed  Minthorne,  at  first  blissfully  ignorant  of  the  loss 
of  correspondence  sustained,  did  not  long  remain  so.  He  had 
not  been  absent  from  the  house  more  than  ten  minutes, 
when  the  bouquet  of  a  neglected  ash-box  saluted  his  nasal 
organ,  agitating  his  physical  system  to  a  fearful  degree  and 
throwing  him  completely  off  his  mental  balance.  At  once 
his  hand  went  into  his  pocket,  in  search  of  the  perfumed 
handkerchief  which  was  to  enable  him  to  pass  the  abomina- 
tion without  fainting,  and  in  a  moment  thereafter  he  became 
conscious  of  the  loss  which  he  (or  some  one  else)  had 
sustained.  The  letter  was  gone — good  gracious  !  And  Mrs. 
Fullerton's  "property  near  Montgomery" — good  gracious 
again  ! — what  would  become  of  it  ?  The  millionaire  noodle 
seemed  to  have  some  idea  of  the  reparation  of  damages,  for 
he  commenced  retracing  his  steps,  as  nearly  as  he  could 
remember,  looking  down  at  the  ground  all  the  while,  as 
closely  as  if  he  had  dropped  a  cambric  needle  instead  of  a 
package  that  could  be  seen  for  half  a  block.  Judging  from 
the  previous  intercourse  between  the  lady  who  intended  to 
be  his  mother-in-law,  and  himself,  and  the  mental  relation 
which  seemed  to  have  been  established — it  could  only  have 
been  the  desire  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  the  lady  and  her 
daughter  which  made  Mr.  Xed  Minthorne  so  anxious  to  re- 
cover the  lost  packet ;  and  yet  the  words  which  he  muttered 


164  TIIE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

immediately  after  discovering  the  loss  did  not  seem  to  hear 
out  that  idea  : — 

"  Confound  this  ripped  pocket  !  The  old  lady  will  rip 
quite  as  badly  as  the  pocket,  though,  and  that  is  some  com- 
fort !  What  a  fool  I  was — so  anxious  to  fret  it  and  gel  away, 
that  I  did  not  even  look  at  the  direction  ;  and  now  if  some 
fool  should  have  picked  it  up  and  carried  it  off  to  the  Post- 
office,  what  a  splendid  chance  is  lost  !'* 

Mr.  Ned   Minthorne,  though  treading  over  every  foot  of 
sidewalk  with  such  religions  inspection,  found  nothing  of  the 
]i!;-sin<r  object.      He  reached  the  house,  ran  up  the  steps  and 
rang   the   bell    again.     Possibly  he  might  have  dropped   it 
before  he  had  left  the   house,  instead  of  after.      The  servant 
who  again   admitted  him   knew  him  too  well  to  say  a  word, 
when  not  questioned  ;   and  as  he  was  confident  that  if  he  did 
not  find  the  packet  he  should  at  least  find  the  senders  in  some 
one  of  the  rooms,  he  asked  her  nothing  and  she  disappeared 
once  more  into  the  subterranean  regions.     He  stepped  into 
the  lower  parlors — no  one  was  there  ;  the  ladies  had  evidently 
not  yet  come  down-stairs  from  the  room  where  he   had    left 
them.   He  ascended  the  stairs,  looking  carefully  for  the  letter  all 
the  while,  and  entered  the  front  room  before  described,  and 
where  the  interview  of  that  morning  had  taken  place      No 
one  there,  either:  the  ladies   had   flitted  aGrain.     (The   fact 
was,  that  they  had  both  left  the  house,  in  different  directions, 
within  two  minutes  of  his  own  departure  ;  but  this  he  could 
not  know.)     As  a  very  intimate  friend  of  the  family,  licensed 
to   go   anvwhere,  he  had   no  delicacy  about  running  up  and 
down   stairs   as   much   as  he   pleased  ;   and  as  he  knew  that 
Dora  sometimes  went  up  to   the  rooms  on  the  third  floor, 
when   she  wished  to  be  peculiarly  sulky  and  exclusive,  he 
proceeded  in  that  direction.     As  he  passed  the  door  of  the 
little  school-room,   towards  one  of   the   other  chambers,  he 
heard  voices  within.      There  were  the  ladies,  beyond  a  doubt. 
»So  he  tapped    at  the  door,  then  fancied  that  he  might  have 
missed  the  response  made,  and  opened  it,  to   find  the   young 
school-teacher    and    her    pupils   in   the    situation    described 
several  pages  back. 
In   spite"  of  his  want  of  sense,  the  millionaire  must  have 


T  II  B      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  165 

1 1 a 1 1  some  eye  for  beauty  and  the  picturesque,  for  he  seemed 
to  be  enough  struck  with  surprise  and  interest  at  the  picture 
of  the  young  girl  seated  on  the  floor  with  her  two  pupils 
bt'sulc  her,  to  look  on  them  in  silence  for  at  least  a  minute. 
During  that  time  Miss  Myni,  who,  under  a  new  excitement, 
instantly  recovered  from  the  effects  of  her  shaking,  found 
tongue  to  say,  loud  enough  for  the  gentleman  to  hear  if  he 
had  been  listening  very  intently: 

"That's  Ned  Minthorne." 

To  which  Miss  Mildred  added,  as  if  aware  that  such  an 
introduction  could  not  be  half  compendious  enough  for  a  total 
stranger  like  their  new  teacher  : 

"  Ned  Minthorne's  courtin'  my  sister  Dora,  and  is  going  to 
marry  her/' 

Whether  Xed  Minthorne  heard  these  explanatory  remarks, 
or  not,  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence.  However  questionable 
their  source  or  the  breeding  they  displayed,  they  opened  quite 
an  interesting  new  page  to  Kate  Haviland.  She  liked  to 
know  people  as  quickly  as  possible,  without  being  half  as 
anxious  that  they  should  form  the  same  ready  estimate  of 
her.  The  self-sufficient  young  lady  was  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried, then,  or  something  equivalent  to  engaged,  to  the  rather 
handsome  and  aristocratic  but  weak  looking  person  standing 
in  the  door.  Her  surprise,  meanwhile,  passed  away  a  little 
sooner  than  that  of  the  millionaire  ;  and  she  made  no  motion 
to  rise,  nor  gave  any  indication  that  she  did  not  consider  her 
position  the  most  dignified  possible,  as  she  looked  the  intruder 
steadily  in  the  face,  and  said  inquiringly  : 

"Well,  sir?" 

"I  really  beg  your  pardon,"  answered  the  intruder,  still 
holding  fast  of  the  door.  "  My  name  is  Minthorne.  You 
do  not  know  me,  of  course." 

"  Yes  she  does,  though  !"  put  in  Miss  Mildred. 

"I  have  not  previously  had  that  pleasure,"  replied  the 
young  teacher,  with  much  dignity  in  her  words  but  a  mis- 
chievous smile  on  lips  the  beauty  of  which  Ned  Minthorne 
was  not  fool  enough  quite  to  ignore. 

"I  did   not  mean   to  intrude,"  continued  the  millionaire. 


166  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

"  My  name  is  Mint  homo,  as  I  said,  and  I  would  not  do  that 
sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

*  What  a  fool  it  is  !"  mentally  commented  Kate  Ilaviland, 
struck  with  the  evident  weakness  of  manner. 

"I  was  looking  for  Mrs.  Fullerton,  or  Miss  Dora,  and 
thought  that — that  is — perhaps  one  of  them  might  have  been 
in  this  room.     I  heard  somebody  speaking  here." 

"Mrs.  Fullerton  and  her  daughter  have  both  just  left  the 
house,  to  make  some  morning  calls,  I  believe,"  answered  the 
teacher,  with  a  conclusive  tone  in  the  remark  which  indi- 
cated :  "  Be  kind  enough  to  follow  them,  or  at  least  shut  the 
door  and  go  away."  Xed  Minthorne  did  not  take  the  hint, 
if  a  hint  was  intended.     He  said  : 

"  I  am  very  sorry.     I  did  not  know  but  one  of  the  ladies, 

might  have you  have  not  happened  to  see  such  a  thing 

as  a  letter  lying  about,  this  morning — within  the  last  half 
hour — anywhere — have  you  ?  Excuse  my  asking,  but  the 
letter  is  of  some  consequence  to  me,  you  know." 

"  Oho  !"  said  the  young  girl  to  herself.  "  Here  is  the 
writer  of  the  letter,  then,  and  the  Fullertons  may  not  be  con- 
cerned, after  all  !"  Then  followed  the  instantaneous  reflec- 
tion :  "But  the  danger  of  the  document  may  not  be  the  less 
to  the  country,  and  I  icorit  give  it  up  until  I  know  more 
about  it — see  if  I  do  !"  What  she  said  aloud,  and  in  re- 
sponse to  the  inquiry,  was  :  "  Xo — I  have  just  come  to  the 
house,  sir,  and  know  nothing  whatever  about  any  letters." 

"  Yes  she  does,  though  !  She  has  got  one  in  her  pocket 
now — a  big  one  !  See  !"  Without  Kate  being  aware  of  the 
fact,  the  letter  had  worked  up  in  her  pocket,  as  she  moved  in 
rocking  herself  backward  and  forward  ;  Myra  sat  on  the  right 
side  of  her  and  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  end  beyond  the 
pocket ;  and  before  the  young  teacher  could  have  a  thought 
of  what  was  about  to  occur,  that  young  female  reprobate  had 
made  a  grasp  at  it,  caught  it  from  the  sheltering  apron,  and 
waved  it  in  the  air,  before  the  astonished  eyes  of  the  mil- 
lionaire, with  that  triumphant  exclamation  ! 

Here  was  a  situation  !  To  say  that  Kate  Ilaviland  did  not 
flush  blood-red  at  the  humiliating  position  of  being  caught 
in  a  rank  falsehood  by  a  stranger,  in  the  presence  of  her  two 


THE       DAYS       OF       SHODDY.  167 

pupils,  and  one  of  them  the  moans  of  hor  detection — would 
be  to  record  nn  absolute  impossibility.  Hatred  of  the  young 
wretch  who  had  betrayed  her — shame  at  the  detection — 
doubt  whether  she  had  not  indeed  done  something  very 
wrong  and  disgraceful,  without  intending  it — all  surged 
through  her  mind,  with  that  much  greater  rapidity  than  anv 
ever  achieved  by  the  favorite  "lightning1' — the  speed  of 
thought  All  the  blood  in  her  body  seemed  concentrated  in 
her  face  and  head  ;  there  was  tire  in  her  eyes  and  a  singing 
sensation  in  her  ears.  Great  heaven  ! — to  what  humiliation 
had  she  not  subjected  herself,  even  on  the  first  day  of  her 
residence  in  that  house  ! — and  would  not  death*  on  the  spot 
be  preferable  to  any  other  fate  which  could  befall  her  ?  And 
yet  through  all  this  there  ran  a  consciousness  that  she  had 
not  intended  to  commit  either  a  crime  or  a  meanness — that 
she  had  acted  from  what  she  believed  to  be  the  highest  and 
noblest  of  motives.  No  ! — she  would  not  break  down  be- 
neath the  shame  of  the  situation  ! — she  would  force  back  that 
rebellious  blood  ! — she  ivould  maintain  the  propriety  of  what 
she  had  done,  even  though  that  effort  was  to  be  made  in  the 
face  of  an  obvious  fool,  (the  very  worst  sort  of  person  in 
the  world  to  impress  or  convince),  and  though  the  next 
minute  might  necessitate  her  leaving  the  house  and  her  em- 
ployment that  very  day. 

It  has  before  been  intimated  that  for  Kate  Haviland  to  will 
was  to  do.  When  she  said  that  the  rebellious  blood  should 
flow  back,  the  rebellious  blood  better  knew  its  fate  than  some 
other  rebellious  forces  seem  to  do,  and  went  back  at  once. 
Her  face  was  nearly  as  white,  though  not  quite  so  calm,  as 
usual,  before  Ned  Minthorne  recovered  breath  from  his  sur- 
prise, to  say,  starting  forward  a  little  way  from  the  still- 
open  door : 

"Why,  that  is  my  letter,  now,  you  know  !  What  does  this 
mean — Miss — Miss — what  the  deuce  is  your  name  ?" 

"My  name  is  Haviland  !"  answered  the  young  girl,  spring- 
ing up  from  the  floor,  at  this  juncture,  with  an  alacrity  which 
nearly  sent  the  two  children,  who  had  been  sitting  partially 
on  her  skirts,  sprawling  against  the  two  sides  of  the  little 
room.     There  was  no  shame  in  her  face,  now,  nor  was  there 


168  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

any  approach  to  that  merriment  which  usually  lowed  so 
easily  into  her  dimpled  cheek  and  cherry  lips.  Its  expres- 
sion was  strong,  earnest,  womanly  determination  ;  and  Ned 
Minthorne  saw  it,  as  she  advanced  to  where  he  was  standing, 
near  the  door,  and  asked  : — 

"  You  say  this  is  your  letter.     Is  it  indeed  yours  ?" 

"  Mine  I  yes  !"  answered  the  millionaire,  but  there  was  no 
great  amount  of  confidence  expressed  in  the  tone  of  his  reply. 
It  was  surprising  with  what  severity,  such  as  might  liavr  be- 
longed to  an  examining  judge  on  the  bench  with  a  shrinking 
culprit  before  him,  the  young  girl  put  her  next  question. 
The  two  children,  astonished  and  a  little  frightened  at  what 
seemed  to  be  going  on,  and  yet  prevented  from  running  away 
out  of  the  room  by  the  presence  of  the  interlocutors  near  the 
door,  had  backed  up  into  the  two  corners  of  the  rear  end  of 
the  room,  nearly  or  quite  out  of  ear-shot,  and  probably  heard 
no  intelligible  word  of  what  followed. 

14  Did  you  write  this  letter  V  asked  the  teacher,  and  her 
eyes  sought  those  of  the  millionaire  with  an  expression  which 
the  latter,  if  he  had  brain  enough  to  understand  them,  was 
not  likely  soon  to  forget. 

"I? — yes — that  is,  no,"  stammered  Minthorne.  "I  did 
not  write  the  letter,  and  yet — yet  I  know — that  is  I  know 
pretty  much,  what  is  in  it;  and  it  is  mine  !  And  look  here  ! 
— what  kind  of  a  young  lady  do  you  call  yourself,  Miss — Miss 
— Hadley — Hamilton — " 

"  Haviland,"  corrected  the  owner  of  the  name. 

" — Miss  Haviland,  then,  to  possess  yourself  of  letters  be- 
longing to  other  people,  and  then  deny  having  them.  Do 
you  not  know  that  that  is — that  it  is — something  or  other, 
confound  the  name,  that  the  law  does  not  allow,  and  that  caD 
be  punished — " 

"  Xot  quite  so  severely  as  tfetaon — holding  correspondence 
with  the  enemy,  can  it?"  asked  the  young  girl,  her  eyes  still 
upon  the  millionaire,  and  her  face  stern  as  if  it  had  never 
flickered  off  a  smile  upon  the  world  around  her. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  asked  Minthorne. 

11  This,"  answered  the  teacher,  coming  close  to  the  million 
aire,  holding  the  letter  equally  near  to  his  eyes  and  her  own 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  169 

and  tracing  he*  finorer  aleng  it.  "If  this  letter  is  yours,  you 
know  that  this  outside  is  only  a  rover,  and  that  within  there 
is  a  letter  addressed  to  the  rebel  capital." 

"And  what  do  you  make  of  that?"  asked  the  young  man, 
apparently  with  less  indecision  in  tone  than  he  had  before 
manifested. 

"  What  I  have  just  named — treasonable  correspondence 
with  the  rebel  leaders/'  answered  the  young  girl. 

"Will  you  give  me  that  letter'/"  asked  the  millionaire, 
reaching  out  his  hand  for  it  at  the  same  time. 

"I  will  not!"  said  Kate  Haviland.  "  You  are  a  man,  and 
I  am  only  a  woman,  and  if  you  choose  to  show  yourself  a 
brute,  perhaps  you  can  take  it  from  me.  If  you  do,  I  will 
denounce  you  for  what  you  are,  within  an  hour,  if  you  are 
the  last  man  on  earth  and  I  starve  in  the  streets.  You  never 
send  this  letter  to  Montgomery,  and  it  never  leaves  my  hands, 
until  I  know  that  it  carries  no  intelligence  that  can  aid  the 
enemy  !" 

Brave  Kate  1  Brave  and  true  !  Had  there  been  more  like 
you,  women  as  well  as  men,  the  city  of  Xew  York  wrould  not 
have  been  made,  as  indeed  it  was  made,  during  all  the  early 
days  of  the  rebellion,  the  fountain-head  from  which  the  rebel 
leaders  drew  all  the  information  they  needed,  of  the  plans, 
purposes  and  resources  of  the  loyal  States.  The  Under- 
ground Mail  would  not  have  revenged,  as  it  did,  the  Under- 
ground Railroad, — one  injury  to  the  public  service  and  the 
welfare  of  the  nation,  built  upon  and  defended  by  another 
the  very  opposite,  which  had  preceded  it.  It  is  not  the 
province  of  this  narration  to  personate  the  men  known  to 
have  been  engaged  in  carrying  on  treasonable  correspondence 
with  the  enemy,  during  all  the  opening  months  of  the  war. 
Had  there  been  legal  proof  against  them,  as  there  was  moral, 
they  would  not  have  remained  all  this  while  at  liberty  :  as 
there  is  not  such  legal  proof  at  the  command  of  loyal  men, 
the  time  has  not  yet  come  when  their  names  can  even  be 
mentioned  with  safety  in  such  a  connection  as  this.  Some  of 
them  at  the  time  held  high  position,  penned  their  treasonable 
correspondence  in  public  offices  where  they  had  been  placed 
by  the  deluded  people,  and  forwarded  that  treasonable  cor- 


170  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

respondent  at  the  public  expense.  Some  of  tliem  have  since 
lost  those  high  positions;  and  some  have  since  regained 
them,  or  gained  others  equally  Honorable,  so  far  as  address 
is  concerned.  Some  of  them  will  sit  in  the  next  Congress* 
and  hold  a  controlling  influence  in  arranging  the  future  weal 
or  wo  of  the  nation.  God  help  the  nation,  in  such  bands  ! 
Half  the  infidels  in  the  loyal  States  have  been  converted  lua 
belief  in  the  truths  of  revealed  religion,  wiihin  the  past  two 
or  three  years,  from  the  impression  that  there  mvst  be  a  Day 
of  Judgment  for  the  purpose  of  pronouncing:  doom  upon  sueh 
men,  and  that  there  must  be  a  place  wherein  they  can  expiate 
those  crimes  against  humanity  and  liberty  for  which  they 
seem  so  unlikely  to  be  punished  during  this  life  ! 

Then  happened  (that  is  to  say,  on  the  heels  of  the  declara- 
tion of  Kate  Haviland,  that  she  had  "put  her  foot  down"' 
against  surrendering  the  letter,  to  be  forwarded  to  Mont- 
gomery)— something  that  she  was  very  far  from  expecting, 
and  something  that  may  surprise  even  the  attentive  reader 
of  these  pages.  It  may  not  be  possible  even  to  say  what  did 
happen,  or  why  it  happened.  Strong  feeling  sometimes 
makes  sudden  metamorphoses,  to  which  those  of  Ovid  were 
only  slight  variations  of  the  same  creature.  Men  who  have 
brains  become  suddenly  devoid  of  them,  under  circumstances 
of  great  peril  ;  and  those  who  before  seemed  to  have  little 
more  than  the  crude  understanding  of  the  idiot,  become  not 
only  men,  but  men  of  brilliant  intellect.  There  may  be 
something  in  the  unparalleled  circumstances  of  this  unholy 
rebellion,  producing  the  same  effect  where  it  would  seem  to 
be  the  most  incredible. 

Under  the  excitement  (it  must  have  been)  of  the  moment, 
and  the  absolute  need  that  he  should  regain  possession  of  the 
letter  on  some  terms,  Mr.  Ned  Minthorne  seemed  to  be  actu- 
ally transformed.  All  his  weak,  dawdling,  listless  manner 
vanished ;  and  Miss  Dora  Fullerton,  with  all  the  flow  of 
Southern  blood  in  her  veins,  would  no  more  have  said  an 
insulting  or  overbearing  word  to  the  man  who  at  that 
moment  stood  before  Kate   Haviland,  than  she  would  have 

•  September,  1S63. 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  171 

thrust  her  right  hand  into  a  grate-full  of  coal  in  full  blast. 
There  was  not  one  particle  of  drawl  in  his  speech,  though  the 
voice  was  very  low,  as  he  said  : 

M  There— we  have  had  enough  of  this  !— give  me  that 
letter  I" 

The  young  girl's  face  had  been  painfully  red  not  long  be- 
fore. Now  it  grew  almost  white,  in  the  intensity  of  her  sur- 
prise. Was  this  really  the  same  man  with  whom  she  bad 
been  conversing  ?  She  gazed  at  him  with  a  strange  fascina- 
tion, in  silence  and  for  quite  a  moment,  and  then  she  asked  : 
"  Who  are  you  ?" 

Yf  I  told  you  my  name,  before.     Minthorne.     Let  me  have 
that  letter ;  for  I  must  go,  and  I  need  it  at  once." 
"  To  send  it  to  Washington  ?"  asked  the  young  girl. 
Minthorne  looked  into  her  face  one  moment.     "No,"  he 
answered. 
"  No  ?" 

"  ^  ° — nor  to  use  it  in  any  manner  in  which  the  interests 
of  the  United  States  of  America  will  be  injured.  Upon  my 
honor!"  His  words  were  very  low,  so  that  the  children  still 
standing  in  the  back  part  of  the  room  could  not  have  under- 
stood him  if  they  had  been  literally  "  all  ears." 

Without  another  word  Kate  Haviland  handed  him  the 
packet  :  he  put  it  into  his  pocket  (his  other  pocket),  said 
"  Good  morning ;  and  you  had  better  forget  what  has' been 
said  and  done  here  since  I  entered  this  room  I"  and  was  gone. 
A  moment  afterwards,  Ned  Minthorne,  millionaire  and  noodle, 
once  more  emerged  from  the  house  of  Mrs.  Fullerton,  with- 
out meeting  either  that  lady  or  her  daughter,  went  dawdling 
down  the  street,  and  was  shortly  afterwards  engaged  in  one 
of  the  most  eclectic  games  of  billiards  known  to  the  profes- 
sion, at  one  of  the  most  fashionable  establishments  for  that 
indulgence,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Union  Square.  Where 
he  went  after  his  weak  nature  had  fortified  itself  with  the 
excitement  of  punching  about  a  few  ivory  balls  on  a  green 
baize  table  with  a  long  stick,  as  another  and  stronger  man 
might  have  fortified  his  with  a  glass  of  fiery  liqueur  and  two 
strong  cigars,— it  is  not  necessary  at  this  time  to  inquire. 
Kate  Haviland  of  course  obeyed  the  injunction  to  "  forget" 


172  T  HE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

all  that  had  occurred,  and  pursued  that  duty  with  such  con- 
scientiousness that  she  did  very  little  else  (mentally)  during 
the  remainder  of  the  day,  than  continually  to  forgel  what  she 
had  the  moment  before  beef)  remembering  in  spite  of  herself. 
In  order  to  quiet  the  apprehensions  of  some  who  might  fear 
for  the  future  of  Misses  Myra  and  Mildred  under  the  instruc- 
tions of  a  teacher  of  such  ambiguous  character — it  may  .be 
said  that  during  the  day  she  managed  to  tell  the  story  A\e 
had  commenced,  without  being  even  once  insultingly  inter- 
rupted— that  before  a  week  Myra  (as  much  from  love  as  fear, 
and  yet  with  a  due  proportion  of  both  in  mind)  would  as 
soon  have  jumped  out  of  the  third  story  window  as  played  a 
trick  corresponding  to  the  one  in  which  she  had  indulged  on 
that  eventful  morning — and  that  not  many  days  elapsed  be- 
fore Mrs.  Fullerton  loftily  declared  herself  pleased  with  the 
new  governess,  and  Miss  Dora  remarked  that  "the  young 
wretches  had  not  been  so  still,  any  time  within  a  twelve- 
month." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Another  Chapter  that  is  not  Romance,  but  History — 
The  "  Days  of  Shoddy,"  as  they  were — The  human 
Reptiles  that  sprung  up  among  the  Demi-Gods — The 
great    opportunity  for  Plundering,  and  how  it  was 

embraced slioddy  swindles  in  and  about  new  york 

Old  Boats,  old  Satinets,  old  Reputations  and  new 
Yillanies — National,  State  and  City  Movements — Is 
the  Modern  Sodom  to  be  Lost  of  Saved  ? 

It  would  be  for  the  honor  of  human  nature,  if  no  necessity 
existed  that  the  words  following,  and  many  others,  should 
ever  be  read  or  written.  Yet  the  design  has  been  to  furnish 
a  faithful  chronicle  of  the  time,  one  partaking  quite  as  much 
of  the  character  of  history  as  that  of  romance ;  and  though 
it  may  be  allowable  for  the  painter  in  sunny  lands  to  bring 


THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY.  173 

s 
homo  only  pleasant  little  bits  of  reminiscence  caught  from 
moments  when  he  saw  the  sun  aslant  on  such  a  valley  or  the 
evening  falling  on  such  a  glorious  combination  of  rock,  and 
tree  and  river, — yet  the  word-painter  has  not  the  same  liberty 
of  choice  ;  and  the  faithful  chronicler  who  accompanies  this 
Gale;  or  Church  or  Gilford,  and  who  pretends  to  give  an  ac- 
curate account  of  the  country  visited,  cannot  be  allowed  only 
to  dwell  upon  such  pleasant  scenes  and  golden  moments  ■  In- 
must  treat  sometimes  of  all  that  is  hideous,  loathsome  and 
disgusting — all  that  is  annoying,  dangerous  and  terrible. 
Fearful  gulfs  lie,  in  reality,  among  the  mountains  which  the 
artist  makes  merely  enjoyable  adjuncts  of  his  picture  ;  storms 
burst  upon  broad-stretching  plains  ;  and  foul  reptiles  creep 
among  luxuriant  foliage.  It  is  the  duty  of  some  to  tell  the 
whole  truth,  while  others  can  be  allowed  only  to  exhibit  the 
glorious  points  which  honor  nature  and  deify  humanity. 

It  is  a  task  of  no  ordinary  repulsiveness,  to  put  upon  re- 
cord, amid  the  brightest  glories  that  have  ever  been  gathered 
by  the  American  name,  a  shame  which  must  endure  as  long 
as  it  has  a  place  in  history.  Not  a  shame  unparalleled  in  the 
career  of  nations,  but  one  from  which  we  should  have  kept 
ourselves  free,  under  the  broad  light  of  this  epoch  and  in 
view  of  all  past  experience.  That  shame  is  and  has  been, 
trading  and  thriving  upon  the  suffering  and  necessity  of  the 
republic. 

It  has  been  the  duty  of  some  of  the  earlier  chapters  of  this 
work,  to  descant  upon  the  glories  which  displayed  themselves 
in  the  national  character  and  action,  immediately  after  the 
fall  of  Sumter — that  attachment  to  the  flag,  personal  courage 
and  devotion,  manifested  in  rushing  to  the  ranks  of  the  army 
and  pouring  out  wealth  for  the  public  service,  which  can 
never  be  forgotten  until  men  cease  to  be  divided  into  nation- 
alities. Wo  to  the  world  that  there  is  another  and  a  darker 
side  to  the  medal  !  If  the  rising  was  matchless  in  the  sub- 
limity of  its  numbers,  courage  and  devotion,  it  was  accom- 
panied by  another  rising,  almost  if  not  quite  unparalleled  in 
the  whole  record  of  baseness.  If  the  true  men  of  the  re- 
public rose  to  be  demi-gods,  in  the  sublimity  of  their  sacri- 
fices made  and  offered,  there  was  a  residuum  among  them — « 


17-t  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

an  evil  spawn  of  men  who  at  the  same  time  sunk  to  bo  the 
meanest  reptiles  that   ever  crawled  the  earth.     If  Rusj 

dictum  and  the  taunt  of  past  years,  that  we  were  "nothing 
but  a  nation  of  shopkeepers,"  were  al  onee  disproved, — an- 
other and  a  fouler  charge,  that  we  were  capable  of  trading 
tipop  any  necessity  and  making  the  "  almighty  dollar'?  out  of 

transactions  the  most  disgraceful,  was  proved  to  be  true  of 
too  many  in  our  midst.     Jt  might  be  established  that  as  a 

nation  we  were  brave  and  loyal:  God  help  us! — it  has  obi 
been  proved  that  as  a  nation  we  were  boned! 

The  title  given  to  the  work  of  which  this  chapter  forms  a 
part,  is  "The  Days  of  Shoddy."  And  the  name*  has  not 
been  chosen  without  due  consideration  of  its  meaning;  for 
the  first  week-  of  the  war,  to  which  it  peculiarly  refers,  [rave 
to  that  word,  before  but  little  known,  a  wide  and  disgraceful 
significance.  It  has  been,  from  that  day.  and  must  be  in  the 
dictionaries  of  all  future  periods,  a  synonym  for  miserable 
pretence  in  patriotism  —  a  shadow  without  a  substance. 
Shoddy  coats,  shoddy  shoes,  shoddy  blankets,  shoddy  tents, 
shoddy  horses,  shoddy  arms,  shoddy  ammunition,  shoddy 
boats,  shoddy  beef  and  bread,  shoddy  bravery,  shoddy  libe- 
rality, shoddy  patriotism,  shoddy  loyalty.  shoddy  statesmanf- 
Bhip,  shoddy  personal  devotion. — these  and  dozens  of  other 
ramifications  of  deception  have  gone  to  make  up  the  applica- 
tion of  the  name  ;  and  it  is  an  eternal  disgrace  to  be  obliged 
to  say  that  in  every  one  of  the  particulars  named,  the  history 
of  this  struggle,  and  especially  of  its  earlier  months,  has 
proved  that  we  can  vie  with  any  people  who  ever  practised 
the  great  art  of  knavery. 

We  are  not  alone  in  the  world,  of  course,  in  this  disgrace. 
Kotten  ships,  foundered  horses,  arms  sold  to  enrich  favorites, 
trading  and  trafficking  in  every  thing  that  should  have  been 

*  There  may  lie  many,  even  at  this  day.  who  do  not  understand  what  this 
substance  really  is.  which  has  lately  given  a  new  popular  word  to  the  English 
language  at  the  same  time  that  it  has  eternally  disgraced  one  branch  of  the 
English  family.  "  Shoddy,"  properly  speaking,  is  the  short  wool  carded  or 
■worn  fruin  the  inside  of  cloth,  without  fibre  or  tenacity,  and  with  no  capa- 
bility of  wear,  and  yet  easily  made  into  the  semblance  of  more  durable  goods. 
The  name  is  now  used,  however,  as  applied  to  cloth,  in  a  more  general  sense 
— to  signify  any  description  of  rotten  or  improper  material 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  175 

held  snored,  show  on  the  pages  of  English  history  at  almost 
any  tirfae  during  the  last  three  hundred  years,  and  no  doubt 
would  show  :it  a  still  more  remote  period  if  the  record  was 
not  made  obscure  by  distance.  Whole  pages  of  Macaulay 
might  have  been  written  of  our  own  time,  when  they  describe 
Ike  terrible  condition  in  which  the  entire  British  governmental 
polity  lav  for  some  time  after  the  accession  of  William  the 
Third,*  and  the  state  of  thorough  disorganisation  in  which 
the  whole  commissariat  was  sunk  when  James  the  Second 
made  his  descent  upon  Ireland,  f  And  that  the  same  mighty 
England,  accustomed  to  great  wars,  has  not  yet  learned  per- 
fect wisdom  in  some  of  these  particulars,  is  known  by  all  who 
remember  the  gross  mismanagement  of  the  British  commis- 
sariat during  the  first  months  of  the  war  in  the  Crimea.  As 
if  to  prove  that  man  in  all  ages  and  in  all  countries  is  a  thief 
when  his  own  country  is  to  be  damaged  and  his  own  country- 
men robbed,  Xenophon  preserves  us  in  his  "  Anabasis"  the 
shameful  fact  that  the  Greek  troops  of  Cyrus,  marching  against 
Artaxerxes,  four  hundred  years  before  Christ,  were  starved 

*  ••  From  the  time  of  the  Restoration  to  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  neglect 
ami  f.  and  had  been  almost  constantly  impairing  the  efficiency  of  every  de- 
partment of  the  government.  Honors  and  public  trusts,  peerages,  baronet- 
cies, regiments,  frigates,  embassies,  governments,  commissionerships,  leases 
of  crown-lands,  contracts  for  clothing,  for  provisions,  for  ammunition,  par- 
dons for  murder,  for  robbery,  for  arsons,  were  sold  at  Whitehall  scarcely  less 
openly  than  asparagus  at  Covent  Garden,  or  herrings  at  Billingsgate.  Bro- 
kers had  been  incessantly  plying  for  custom  in  the  purlieus  of  the  court.  * 
•  •  *  From  the  palace  which  was  the  chief  seat  of  this  pestilence,  the 
taint  had  diffused  itself  through  every  office  and  through  every  rank  in  every 
office,  and  had  everywhere  produced  feebleness  and  disorganization." — 
[Macaulay,  Hint,  of  England,  vol.  III.,  p.  48,  Crosby  &  Nichols'  edition. 

f  "  A  crowd  of  negligent  or  ravenous  functionaries  *  *  *  plundered, 
starved  and  poisoned  the  armies  and  fleets  of  William.  *  *  *  The  beef 
ami  brandy  which  ho  [Shales]  furnished,  were  so  had  that  the  soldiers  turned 
from  them  with  loathing;  the  tents  were  rotten:  the  clothing  was  scanty; 
the  muskets  broke  in  the  handling.  Great  numbers  of  shoes  wen-  set  down 
to  the  account  of  the  government;  but  two  months  after  the  Treasury  had 
paid  the  bill,  the  shoes  had  not  arrived  in  Ireland.  The  means  of  trans. 
purring  baggage  and  artillery  were  almost  entirely  wanting.  An  ample 
riunVber  of  horses  had  been  purchased  in  England  with  the  public  money, 
nnd  had  been  sent  to  the  banks  of  the  Dee.  But  Shales  had  let  them  out  for 
harvest-work  to  the  farmers  of  Cheshire,  had  pocketed  the  hire,  and  had  left 
the  troops  in  Ulster  to  get  on  as  best  they  might." — [Macaulay,  Hint,  of 
England,  vol.  III.,  p.  336.] 


176  TTTE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

and  robbed  by  their  commanders  and  commissaries,  that  thoir 
own  pockets  might  be  filled  with  this  " blood-money"  of  an 

army.  And  some  of  the  heaviest  thunder  of  denunciation 
poured  by  Demosthenes  into  the  ears  of  the  Athenians, 
sounded  against  those  public  plunderers  who  enriched  them- 
selves, wore  costly  robes  and  built  luxurious  palaces,  while 
the  State  and  the  army  were  being  beggared  to  .supply  tlxm 
with  that  added  wealth.  But  what  is  all  this  to  us  ? — and 
what  satisfaction  is  there  in  contemplating  it,  except  such  a 
grim  and  horrible  triumph  as  Lucifer  might  have  felt,  plung- 
ing down  from  the  radiant  battlements  of  heaven  to  the  gloom 
and  despair  of  the  lower  pit,  at  the  knowledge  that  be  was 
not  the  first  of  the  celestial  intelligences  who  had  fallen  into 
the  same  disobedience  and  the  same  irretrievable  ruin  ?  W# 
should  have  been  honest,  had  the  whole  world  before  us  and 
around  us  proved  false  and  treacherous  :  we  should  not  have 
permitted  the  most  sublime  rising  that  ever  took  place  to 
preserve  a  nationality,  to  be  marred  and  belittled  by  a  rising 
equally  general  for  theft  and  plunder. 

There  seems  to  have  been  a  general  declaration,  in  acts  if 
not  in  words,  at  the  moment  when  the  dangers  and  necessities 
of  the  government  began  to  be  manifest,  to  this  effect :  "  The 
country  is  falling  into  trouble — it  will  be  frightened  and  dis- 
tracted— it  must  have  materials  for  carrying  on  a  war,  sud- 
denly— it  must  take  such  things  as  are  offered,  and  there  will 
be  neither  time  nor  heart  to  examine — we  can  make  what 
profit  we  please — and  it  is  no  crime  to  cheat  the  government.'' 
There  was  a  time  when  some  mercantile  reputations  in  the 
country  stood  not  only  above  any  positive  charge  of  dishonest 
dealing,  but  even  above  suspicion.  Xot  all  those  mercantile 
reputations  have  been  discovered  to  be  bubbles,  during  this 
struggle,  but  it  has  certainly  been  proved  that  none  were  too 
high  to  come  under  absolute  proof  of  dishonesty.  Govern- 
ment officials  have  been  themselves  fearfully  weak  if  not  ac- 
tually sharing  dishonest  profits  with  contractors ;  and  con- 
tractors have  so  habitually  outraged  all  decency  by  their 
swindles,  that  the  very  name  of  "  contractor''  has  long  been  a 
scoff  in  the  streets  and  the  word  upon  which  any  performer 
in  the  theatre  could  bring  down  rounds  of  reprobatory  ap- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  177 

pTausc.  These  frauds  began  with  the  beginning,  and  it  is 
evident  thai  they  wi.l  not  end  until  the  close.  The  leech  has 
fastened  upon  the  blood  of  the  nation,  and  it  will  not  let  go 
its  hold  until  the  vietim  has  the  last  drop  of  its  blood  sucked 
away,  or  finds  strength,  in  recovered  health,  to  dash  the  rep- 
tiles from  its  bleeding  sides.  It  was  not  only  yesterday  that 
the  army  was  clothed  in  rags  when  unimpeachable  clothing 
was  bargained  for :  to  some  extent  the  same  wretched  condi- 
tion of  affairs  exists  to-day.*  It  was  not  only  last  year  or 
the  year  still  previous,  that  the  soldiers  ate  mouldy  biscuit 
and  gangrened  beef:  fare  very  little  better  supplies  them  to- 
day, though  the  exposure  has  ceased  to  be  a  popular  one  in 
the  newspapers,  and  the  soldiers  themselves  have  grown  so 
used  to  the  wrong  treatment,  or  so  hopeless  of  amelioration, 
that  they  cease  to  utter  loud  complaints  in  letters  addressed 
to  the  public  journals.  Yessels  are  in  the  employment  of  the 
government,  to-day,  at  scandalous  prices,  and  used  for  dan- 
gerous service,  when  they  are  neither  sea-worth y  nor  in  re- 
pair, just  as  they  were  two  years  ago  when  there  was  some 
shadow  of  excuse  for  their  selection,  in  the  existing  haste  and 
necessity  ;  and  if  the  old  Governor  and  the  still  older  Niagara 
went  the  way  of  all  rotten  boats  some  time  ago,  it  is  not  long 
since  two  old  Staten  Island  ferry-boats,  the  Clifton  and  the 
Sachem,  were  sent  upon  service  at  Sabine  Pass,  for  which 
they  were  no  more  fitted  than  the  same  number  of  mud-seows 
would  have  been, — and  happily  lost  to  the  rebels.  If  the 
windows  of  men's  souls  and  the  secrets  of  government  con  ■ 
tracts  could  both  be  laid  open  to  the  public  view,  to-day, 
the  discovery  would  be  made  that  quite  one-half  the  national 
expenditures  during  the  two  and  a  half  years  of  the  war  for 
the  suppression  of  the  rebellion,  have  been  lavished  upon  un- 
worthy favorites  or  picked  away  piece-meal  by  gross  decep- 

*  September,  1863.  In  the  Department  of  which  Fortress  Monroe  is  the 
head-quarters,  and  where  certainly  there  is  not  remarkably  active  service,  it 
has  needed  monthly  distributions  of  clothing,  during  1863,  to  prevent  the  sol- 
diers from  being  absolutely  naked.  As  there  has  been  no  publip  investiga- 
tion of  this  abuse,  which  is,  however,  a  common  subject  of  sneering  allusion 
at  Monroe,  we  have  no  license  to  give  the  names  of  the  firms  supplying  either 
the  cloths  or  the  cluthing,  and  can  only  say  that  thej  are  umony  the  ve*y 
lurycxt  and  most  resectable  dealers  in  the  country. 
11 


173  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

tions.  Half  the  cost  of  the  struggle  having  been  thus  felo- 
niously added,  half  the  possible  duration  within  the  limits  of 
public  patience  has  of  course  been  subtracted;  and  if  (which 
no  one  contemplates  as  possible)  there  should  eventually  be 
a  premature  and  disastrous  termination  to  the  war.  let  it  be 
understood  that  the  cause  of  the  ruin  will  be  found  in  Hie  con- 
tinued and  unendurable  swindles  which  Jiave  created  a  false 
impression  in  the  public  mind  that  the  war  itself  is  only 
kept  up  to  give  still  farther  opportunities  for  plundering. 

The  city  of  New  York,  head  of  the  commercial  operations 
of  a  whole  continent,  has  of  course  been  the  place  of  purchase 
of  most  of  the  supplies  necessary  for  the  government 
service,  and  equally  of  course  the  theatre  of  most  of  the 
disreputable  transactions  alluded  to.  Many  of  the  unreliable 
goods  furnished  have  been  manufactured  at  the  East ;  and 
some  of  the  principal  "shoddy  mills,"  where  a  substance 
known  to  be  totally  unfit  for  human  wear  is  every  day  made 
into  an  apology  for  cloth,  to  weaken,  to  sicken  and  freeze  the 
defenders  of  the  country,  are  located  in  Connecticut.  No 
doubt  Boston  and  Philadelphia  have  quite  contributed  their 
share  to  the  national  disgrace.  But  the  city  of  New  York 
must  stand  pre-eminent  in  this,  as  in  every  thing  honorable 
or  disgraceful;  and  it  is  almost  entirely  with  transactions 
connected  with  the  great  commercial  metropolis,  that  this 
humiliating  record  has  to  do.  Nor  is  there  occasion  of  enter- 
ing into  many  particulars  of  the  frauds  connected  with  the 
city  of  New  York  :  the  public  recollection  is  smarting  under 
them  ;  the  names  of  the  guilty  parties  are  well  known  to 
the  great  body  of  readers  ;  and  such  personation  as  could 
bring  an  additional  blush  (can  they-  indeed  blush  ?)  to  the 
cheeks  of  the  most  noted  of  the  robbers  of  their  motherland, 
would  be  beyond  the  scope  of  a  work  of  this  character. 
Let  a  few  type  instances  suffice  to  recall  public  recollection 
sufficiently  for  the  purposes  of  this  chronicle. 

There  is  a  story  upon  record,  of  a  droll  character  who  went 
one  day  into  a  livery  stable  (proverbially  a  place  for  cheap 
dealing  and  aeute  conscience)  and  inquired  the  price  that 
would  be  charged  him  for  a  horse  and  carriage  to  go  a  few- 
miles  into  the  country.     The  livery-keeper  replied  with  his 


THE      DAYS      OP      SHODDY.  1 79 

price — a  modest  one,  beyond  peradventure, — whereupon  tho 
jSroll  very  coolty  Remarked  :  "  Oh,  you  are  talst&kenl     I  did 

fid  ask  you  how  much  you  would  xell  the  establishment  for, 
but  how  much   you  would  hire  it  to  me  for,  for  a  couple  of 

hours  !''  The  local  legend  does  not  record  what  was  the 
eventual  issue  of  this  transaction  ;  but  something  of  the 
same  kind  might  with  propriety  have  beett  said,  by  the  gov- 
ernment officials,  of  charters  of  boats  proposed  in  their 
behalf,  Where  the  price  charged  for  a  month's  hire  was 
afterwards  proved  to  have  been  very  nearly  or  quite  the 
whole  value  of  the  vessel,  the  government  taking  the  risk  of 
loss  and  obligation  to  pay  the  whole  value  set  by  the  owners 
in  that  event,  in  addition!  Dozens  and  scores  of  vessels 
were  hired,  in  the  harbor  of  Xew  York  and  no  doubt  in  other 
harbors  as  well,  of  which  the  owners  afterwards  made  their 
boasts,  when  they  had  been  retained  in  the  government  em- 
ploy for  two,  three  or  at  the  most  six  months,  that  they  had 
received  the  full  value  of  their  vessels  and  had  them  back 
again  as  sound  as  ever.  There  was  not  even  shame  enough, 
on  the  part  of  those  unscrupulous  persons,  to  conceal  the 
fact  that  they  had  attempted  and  succeeded  in  perpetrating  a 
great  fraud  on  the  government,  as  there  might  have  been  if 
they  had  been  speaking  of  transactions  with  private  indi- 
viduals :  on  the  contrary  they  chuckled  publicly  over  that 
"smartness"  for  which  some  discriminating  fiend,  specially 
commissioned  for  the  purpose,  will  yet  treat  them  to  an  extra 
roasting  in  perdition,  above  that  received  by  ordinary  scoun- 
drels. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  "  society"  is  an  excellent  insti- 
tution, not  only  from  the  legal  protection  which  its  rules  and 
observances  afford  to  those  who  would  otherwise  be  too  weak 
or  too  modest  to  take  care  of  themselves,  but  because  to  some 
extent  it  enforces  the  concealment  of  the  worst  points  in  the 
characters  of  each,  and  prevents  sensitive  people  going  mad 
at  the  great  aggregated  spectacle  of  human  depravity.  This 
phase  of  the  questionable  and  yet  necessary  protection  which 
it  affords  to  doubtful  characters,  has  probably  never  been 
more  strikingly  illustrated  than  it  Lids  fair  to  be  to-day  and 


180  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

in  connection  with  the  very  outrages  upon  which  we  have 
been  commenting*. 

If  only  one  man  had  been  engaged  in  filling  his  purse  at 
the  public  expense,  no  matter  how  rich  and  powerful  he  had 
grown,  it  is  just  possible  that  there  might  be  enough  of  deter- 
mined virtue  and  righteous  indignation  in  the  community,  to 
**  taboo''  him  in  the  street  and  on  'Change,  to  make  his  seat 
an  unenviable  one  at  church  and  plant  a  few  thorns  and  pin- 
points of  shame  in  his  nightly  pillow.  But  it  unfortunately 
happens  that  the  number  of  the  impeccable  is  very  limited 
as  compared  with  those  to  be  assailed,  and  that  consequently 
there  is  a  sort  of  "  Mutual  Defence  Association"  existing 
just  now  in  almost  every  large  community  in  America,  whose 
great  end  and  object  is  to  stifle  outcry  on  this  very  subject. 
"  Help  me  keep  my  skirts  clear,  and  I  will  assist  in  holding 
you  harmless,"  is  the  motto  of  this  extensive  organization 
of  notables  ;  and  surrounded  by  such  phalanxes,  who  have 
first  helped  themselves  to  nearly  all  that  was  worth  appro- 
priating and  then  banded  together  to  prevent  detection  or 
even  accusation, — what  chance  Would  there  really  be  for  the 
lonely  prophet  of  just  wrath  who  dared  to  raise  his  voice  in 
personal  denunciation?  A  penny  whistle  in  a  hurricane, 
would  be  that  weak,  small  voice  raised  amid  the  universal 
clamor. 

Besides,  there  is  naturally  some  objection,  on  the  part  of 
the  most  scrupulously  honest  of  men,  to  being  on  bad  terms 
with  all  his  neighbors  !  And  as  the  wrong  has  been  so 
broadly  disseminated  over  the  land,  and  as  it  has  permeated 
every  class  of  society,  from  the  occupant  of  the  policy-shop 
to  that  of  the  pulpit,  one  is  really  cautious  how  he  fires  iuto 
a  crowd,  lest  the  shot  intended  to  cripple  a  contractor  a 
hundred  leagues  away,  may  have  the  unexpected  effect  of 
"  winging"  an  intimate  acquaintance — perhaps  even  a  kins- 
man !  There  have  been  so  many  vessels  to  be  supplied — so 
many  suits  of  clothing  to  be  furnished — so  many  thousands 
of  arms  to  be  procured — so  many  regiments  to  be  fed,  going 
to  or  from  the  seat  of  war  (no  allusion  is  here  made,  be  it 
understood,  to  the  Philadelphia  Volunteer  Refreshment 
Saloons,  among  the  true  and  far-seeing  benevolences  of  the 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  181 

time) — so  many  victorious  officers  to  be  banqueted  at  the 
public  expense — so  many  fallen  to  be  buried,  with  long  arrays 
of  carriages,  and  gloves  and  music  ad  infinitum — so  many 
different  sorts  of  "  relief"  to  be  furnished  to  the  wives  and 
children  of  absent  soldiers — so  many  trips  of  official  person- 
ages to  Washington,  or  the  different  State  capitals,  or  the 
various  battle-fields,  to  arrange  for  something  that  never 
needed  to  be  done  and  is  consequently  and  very  properly  not 
done — so  many  "little  jobs,"  in  short,  to  supply  opportunities 
missed  in  the  more  extensive  ones, — that  the  brother,  if  dis- 
posed to  be  too  particular,  might  think  twice  before  he  took 
the  hand  of  his  twin,  and  the  wife  hesitate  at  putting  on  the 
new  bracelet  brought  her  by  her  husband,  until  she  had  full 
assurance  that  it  had  not  been  forged  out  of  the  melting  down 
of  the  national  wealth. 

As  a  consequence  of  all  this,  society  will  not  be  at  present 
seriously  disrupted  on  account  of  the  new  element  which  has 
crept  into  it,  and  men  who  should  carry  a  scarlet  letter  "  S" 
upon  the  forehead,  much  more  prominent  than  the  "A"  on 
the  breast  of  poor  Hester  Prynne,  will  be  allowed  to  wear 
their  own  unblushing  fronts.  Denunciators,  when  they  do 
spring  up,  will  generalize  instead  of  particularizing.  Preach- 
ers, in  their  pulpits,  when  they  feel  the  necessity  of  hurling 
a  bolt  of  wrath,  will  be  careful  not  to  look,  at  that  awkward 
moment,  at  the  pew  where  my  Lord  Baron  de  Shoddy,  just 
inducted  into  his  splendid  new  villa  of  Shoddyhurst,  sits 
proudly  in  his  shining  raiment  and  forms  the  cynosure  of 
admiring  eyes.  Political  speakers,  though  they  may  thunder, 
will  thunder  innocuously  at  some  supposed  speculator  who 
lives,  not  in  New  York,  Boston  or  Philadelphia,  but  in  a  very 
distant  "Borribhoola  Gha"  across  some  wide  imaginary  ocean. 
Poets  will  jingle  abuse,  but  they  will  disguise  the  shining 
arrows  of  wit  so  cleverly  that  not  even  the  object  aimed  at 
will  be  aware  that  he  is  touched.  And  novelists — well, 
novelists  will  be  found  human  like  their  fellows ;  and  even 
they  will  present,  on  this  subject,  innumerable  bushels  of 
imaginative  and  deprecatory  chaff,  to  a  ridiculously  small 
measure  of  personal  wheat. 

At  which  stage  of  the  argument  the  writer  hereof  becomes 


182  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

aware  that  he  is  giving  forcible  proof  of  his  own  prophecy, 
and  that  if  he  would  not  lose  the  opportunity  entirely,  in  the 
present  connection,  and  present  the  most  melancholy  instance 
on  record  of  a  "  Hamlet"  without  ever  a  Prince,  at  least  a 
brief  glance  must  be  taken  of  a  few  of  the  frauds  and  blun- 
ders which,  coming  together,  and  each  seeming  to  be  espe- 
cially arranged  for  the  aid  of  the  other,  disgraced  the  opening 
days  of  the  war  in  certain  prominent  localities.  And  not  the 
old  clo'  dealer  of  Chatham  Street,  who,  about  that  time, 
advertised  that  he  would  pay  the  very  highest  price  for  cast- 
off  clothing,  as  he  had  "  extensive  orders  from  the  govern- 
ment,"— nor  yet  the  boatman  on  a  certain  shore-section  not 
far  from  the  same  city,  wh,o  was  seen  digging  off  a  schooner 
that  had  been  lying  ashore,  bilged  and  abandoned,  for  five 
years,  "to  carry  troops  down  South  with,"  as  he  said, — 
neither  of  these  is  to  be  the  type.  Prominent  men,  more  or 
less  clearly  indicated,  gleam  through  the  whole  lamentable 
series  of  operations,  the  record  of  which  has  lain  entirely 
beyond  the  scope  of  the  eleven  hundred  pages  of  Tan  Wyck, 
and  even  over-labored  the  Albany  printers,  so  that  though  it 
has  been  loud  enough  in  the  public  voice,  it  has  not  reached 
the  public  eye  in  the  report  of  the  Legislative  Committee 
appointed  to  investigate  the  mingled  dishonesties  and  incapa- 
cities. 

The  crowning  feature  of  that  immediate  time  was  of  course 
to  be  found  in  the  great  clothing  contracts  for  thirty  thousand 
troops,  in  which  popular  clothing  firms  were  engaged — affairs 
probably  no  worse  than  others  which  accompanied  and  imme- 
diately followed  them,  but  thrown  into  peculiar  prominence 
by  their  extent  and  their  being  the  first  to  come  under  expo- 
sure— affairs  which  at  once  marked  the  names  of  those 
concerned  in  them  as  proper  subjects  to  bear  the  prefix  of 
"Shoddy"  itself,  for  jokes  in  the  street  and  "gags"  at  the 
theatres,  without  which  town  wits,  writers  and  actors  might 
all  have  been  deprived  of  some  of  their  very  best  opportu- 
nities. 

It  is  equally  obvious  that  most  of  the  frauds  upon  the 
government  then  and  immediately  after  perpetrated,  could 
not  have  met  with  the  same  evil  success,  had  there  not  been 


T  11  S       D  A  V  0      0  F      SHOD  D  Y .  183 

either  collusion  on  the  part  of  the  authorities,  or  equally 
lamentable  though  not  equally  culpable  confusion  and  mis- 
management, lie  would  be  a  bold  man,  to  charge  that 
nearly  every  person  at  that  time  in  public  office  was  a  shame- 
less swindler,  and  the  alternative  is  to  believe  that  frightened 
ha.-te  and  incapacity  were  the  true  explanations  of  the  con- 
duct exhibited.  The  otherwise  high  character,  of  most  of  the 
officials  involved,  gives  at  least  some  ground  for  belief  that 
this  charitable  explanation  is  the  true  one,  and  that  instead 
of  their  being  conspirators  leaguing  with  private  villains  to 
defraud  the  government,  they  were,  merely  well-meaning  in- 
capables,  frightened  out  of  their  propriety,  and  running  around 
with  that  admirable  want  of  knowledge  where  they  were 
going  or  what  they  were  doing,  graphically  illustrated  by 
some  of  the  country  people  in  comparing  them  to  the  evolu- 
tions of  "a  hen  with  her  head  off !" 

The  New  York  Legislature  was  in  session  when  the  news 
of  the  fall  of  Sumter  burst  upon  the  country.  That  body 
naturally  shared  in  the  general  alarm  and  indignation,  and  as 
the  elected  exponent  of  the  popular  feeling  in  the  State,  at 
once  assumed  the  duty  of  providing  for  the  emergency.  A 
law  was  passed,  on  the  Tuesday  following  the  announcement 
of  that  astounding  news  and  that  of  the  President's  Proclama- 
tion, appropriating  three  millions  of  dollars  for  the  public  de- 
fence, and  empowering  the  Board  of  State  Officers*  to  expend 
that  sum  in  raising,  organizing  and  equipping  thirty  thousand 
men,  also  authorized  by  that  act.  Really,  this  Board  had  lit- 
tle to  do  in  the  way  of  raising  troops,  for  men  were  rushing 
to  arms  in  uncounted  thousands  :  their  principal  duty  lay  in 
overseeing  the  organization  into  regiments,  looking  after  the 
legality  and  propriety  of  the  elections  of  officers  which  were 
to  be  made  by  the  regiments  themselves,  providing  for  their 
proper  arming  and  equipment,  and  getting  them  ready  for  the 

*  The  names  of  the  gentlemen  composing  this  Board,  for  the  additional 
reminder  of  the  time  which  they  convey,  may  also  be  mentioned  here.  Tliey 
were:  Edwin  D.  Morgan,  Governor;  Robt.  Campbell,  Lt.  Governor;  David 
R.  Floyd  Jones,  Secy,  of  State;  Robt.  Denniston,  Comptroller;  Charles  G. 
Myer«,  Attorney  General;  Philip  Dorsheirner,  Treasurer ;  and  Van  R.  Rich- 
mond, State  Engineer.  Of  these,  after  Gov.  Morgan,  Mr.  Dorsheimer  was  a 
leading  actuary  in  army  attairs. 


18-i  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

field  as  speedily  as  possible.  Xor  is  there  the  slightest  dcubt. 
it  is  only  justice  to  say,  that  the  Governor,  at  least  most  of 
the  other  members  of  the  Board,  aud  the  officers  of  his  Staff 
as  Commander-in-Chief  of  the  State,  who  filled  especially 
arduous  positions  in  the  equipment  and  fitting-out  of  the 
troops,  intended  to  do  the  very  best  that  lay  in  their  power, 
to  gather  those  troops  readily,  equip  and  send  them  off  most 
efficiently.  And  it  is  only  justice  to  say,  again,  that  they 
would  have  presented  a  much  better  record  than  they  did  in 
reality,  had  not  that  unholy  conflict  between  City,  State  and 
Nation  early  begun  to  manifest  itself,  which  in  a  wider  sphere 
had  done  so  much  to  give  birth  to  the  rebellion,  and  which  will 
be  found,  unless  yet  undeveloped  wisdom  arises  to  bar  the 
door  of  divided  feeling  which  admits  the  evil,  the  controlling 
cause  of  our  national  undoing. 

The  National  Government  had  at  that  moment  neither  arms 
nor  money  ;  and  it  needed  the  one  and  the  expenditure  of  the 
other  without  a  moment's  delay.  It  was  very  willing  to  have 
the  States  raise  the  troops  demanded,  in  their  own  way,  fur- 
nish the  money  necessary  to  equip  and  send  them  off,  and  look 
to  it  (the  General  Government)  for  eventual  repayment.  But 
it  could  not  quite  "  keep  still"  all  the  while.  It  felt  the  neces- 
sity of  making  occasional  embarrassing  suggestions  as  to  au- 
thority which  the  State  Government  (clearly  in  the  right,  so 
far)  wras  not  slow  to  meet  with  equal  tenacity.  Here  and 
there  an  officer  (as  in  the  case  of  Colonel  Ellsworth,  before 
noticed)  was  sent  on  from  Washington  with  "  authority"  to 
raise  a  regiment ;  while  the  fact  was,  if  there  was  any  State 
authority  at  all,  that  the  President  could  have  given  nothing 
more  than  a  recommendation  that  he  or  any  other  in  the  same 
relative  position  should  be  commissioned  by  the  Governor. 
This  muddle  of  "  authority,"  in  the  case  of  Colonel  Ellsworth 
and  his  Zouaves,  grew  into  a  serious  difficulty  with  reference 
to  their  "ordering  off" — a  sad  earnest  of  the  reverses  they 
were  afterwards  to  suffer.  Then  the  authorities  at  Washing- 
ton had  no  idea  whatever,  how  many  troops  they  really 
wanted,  and  scarcely  how  many  they  had  ordered  ;  and  here 
grew  up  another  matter  of  embarrassment,  eminently  worthy 
of  the  time  when  nearly  all  that  was  not  dishonesty  seemed 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  185 

to  he  inefficiency.     By  the  Proclamation  calling;  for  scvenly- 
five  thousand  troops,  the  quota  of  the  State  of  New  York 
would  have  been  seventeen  regiments,  numbering  thirteen 
thousand,  two  hundred  and  eighty  men.*     The  defection  of 
Virginia,  North  Carolina,  Kentucky,  Tennessee  and  Arkansas, 
seriously  affected  the  calculation,  and  made  the  quota  of  New 
^  ork,  if  the  whole    seventy-five   thousand   men  were   to   be 
raised,  nearly  twenty  thousand.     The  legislature  had  believed, 
from  the  first,  that  troops  might  be  more  ea'sily  raised  then 
1h;m  at  a  later  period,  and  that  they  might  be  found  "  handv 
to  have  in  the"  national  "  house"  ;   and  their  authorization  had 
been,  as  we  have  seen,  thirty  thousand.     It  will  scarcely  be 
believed  that  snch  stupid  blindness  as  to  the  future  can  have 
existed  at  Washington,  but  such  is  the  fact :  the  verv  moment 
it  was   known   that   thirty  thousand  New  York  troops  were 
being  raised,  there  were  rumors  that  a  large   part  of  them 
would  be  rejected  ;  and  it  needed  the  visits  of  two  different 
Committees  to  the  National   Capital,  before  the  government 
could  be  induced  to  receive  and  recognize  tlfe  whole  thirty 
thousand.     (As  an  indication  of  the  war-spirit  of  the  State 
of  New  York,  it  may  be  said,  here,  that  the  whole  thirty  thou- 
sand, in  thirty-eight  regiments,  were  organized,  officered  and 
equipped,  and  left  the  State  for  the  seat  of  war,  within  ninety 
days  from  the  date  of  the  original  call.)     After  Bull  Run,  and 
when  the  power  and  extent  of  the   rebellion  began  to  appear 
in  their  full  proportions,  the  government  at  Washington  be- 
gan to  sigh  over  lost  opportunities,  and  to  be  willing  to  accept 
more  men,  instead  of  less,  than  the  State  of  New  York  was 
willing  to  furnish.     It  is  anticipating  events  to  refer  to  it  in 
this  connection,  but  no  other  opportunity  can  occur,  and  there 

*  The  figures  of  the  original  call  upon  all  the  States  supposed  loyal,  were 
ns  follows  :  Maine,  one  Regiment,  780  men;  New  Hampshire,  one,  780  •  Ver- 
mont, one,  780  ;  Massachusetts,  two,  1,560  ;  Rhode  Island,  one,  780  ;  Connec- 
ticut, one,  780;  New  York,  seventeen,  13.280;  New  Jersey,  four,  3,123; 
Pennsylvania,  sixteen.  12. 500;  Delaware,  one,  780;  Maryland,  four'  3.123- 
Virginia,  three,  2.349;  North  Carolina,  two,  1,560;  Tennessee,  one,  V&0  \ 
Kentucky,  four,  3,123;  Arkansas,  one,  780;  Missouri,  four,  3,123;  Illinois,' 
six.  4.IK3  ;  [iidfctfc  six,  4.083;  Ohio,  thirteen,  10,153;  Michigan,  one.  780  • 
Wisconsin,  one,  7S0;  Iowa,  one.  780;  Minnesota,  one,  780.  Total,  73,391.' 
The  balanco  of  75,000,  1,609,  to  be  supplied  by  the  District  of  Columbia.' 


186  THE       DAYS       OF     'SHODDY. 

is  really  an  appropriateness  in  saying  that  it  was  at  this  time 

(to  wit,  immediately  after  Bull  Run.)  that  the  conflict  between 
the  National  and  Sia-e  authorities,  in  the  raising1  of  troops, 
again  and  yel  more  injuriously  manifested  itself.  Men 
ing  themselves  military  men,  who  lacked  character  to  inspire 
confidence  at  home,  and  who  could  not  haye  procured  autl 
within  the  city  of  New  York,  where  they  were  known,  to  organ- 
ise a  gang  of  street-sweepers, — applied  to  the  War  Department 
for  authority  to  raise  regiments  within  the  State  of  New 
without  consultation  with  the  State  government,  and  were 
listened  to.  It  is  alleged  that  some  of  them  offered  baits  for 
command,  in  tendering  corps  of  peculiar  name  and  organi- 
sation ;  and  however  that  may  have  been,  certain  it  is  that 
some  of  the  active  men  who  at  that  time  managed  affairs  in  the 
War  Department,  found  capabilities  in  most  of  these  men, 
which  those  who  knew  them  best  would  never  have  suspected  ; 
and  such  authorizations  were  given — not  less  than  fifty  in 
two  months,  a  part  of  them  to  drunken  vagabonds  and  even 
convicts  !  And  from  those  authorizations  sprung  most  of  the 
disgrace  which  has  since  been  reflected  on  the  service,  from 
the  State.  The  regiments  originally  raised,  under  State  au- 
thorization, took  away  such  men  as  Duryea,  Davis.  Slocura, 
Peck  and  others  who  have  since  reflected  honor  upon  high 
command  ;  and  Hawkins.  Bendix  and  many  others  who  de- 
served higher  command  than  they  ever  attained.  It  was  un- 
der the  new  system  of  outside  meddling  that  the  disgraceful 
scenes  of  Staten  Island,  East  New  York  and  the  Red  House 
were  inaugurated,  with  habitual  drunkards  and  even  convicts 
pretending  to  command  American  citizens,  with  fudged  mus- 
ter-rolls and  forged  orders,  the  whole  culminating  in  the  last- 
in?  disgrace  to  the  service,  of  D'Utassy  immured  at  Sing 
Sing. 

Such  was  the  inequality  of  the  action  at  Washington,  with 
which  the  State  authorities  were  obliged  to  contend, — one 
day  unwilling  to  receive  the  troops  raised  at  their  order,  and 
the  next  willing  to  overstep  their  own  authority  to  raise  more 
than  the  State  would  furnish  under  its  recognized  system. 
This  was  very  early  in  the  war;  and  the  country  might  have 
been    better    served    could    we    say    that    nothing    like    the 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  187 

same  vacillation  has  been  shown  at  a  later  period.  But 
the  nation  will  not  soon  forget  the  events  which  followed  the 
disastrous  (though  able)  retreat  of  Bants  from  the  Shenan- 
doah Valley,  early  in  1 8(1:5,  the  agonized  appeals  made  to  the 
leading  loyal  Stales  for  militia  to  "  save  "Washington"  DBC6 
more,  and  the  repudiation  of  those  very  calls  which  follow  d 
when  the  folly  of  the  "big  scare"  (as  it  was  then  well  termed) 
had  been  discovered.  Governor  Andrews,  of  Massachusetts, 
took  the  alarm  communicated  by  the  official  telegraphic  des- 
patches, in  such  earnest  that  he  called  out  all  the  troops  in 
and  near  Boston,  on  the  Common  ;  and  Washington  came 
very  near  to  being  invaded  on  the  opposite  hand,  by  the 
force  of  that  State,  at  once.  The  Seventy-fi'rst  Regiment  of 
New  York  National  Guards  hurried  down,  believing  that 
they  would  almost  or  quite  find  Washington  captured,  to  be 
coolly  received  in  that  city  with  a  denial  that  they  were 
wanted  or  that  he  had  called  for  any  three  months  militia- 
men, and  that  if  they  were  "  business  men,"  as  they  alleged, 
and  not  willing  to  enlist  for  the  war— they  could  go  home  ! 
They  had  no  authority  to  go  home,  meanwhile  ;  they  had  not- 
been  mustered  into  the  service  of  the  United  States,  and  con- 
sequently not  even  the  officers  could  get  legal  leave  to  absent 
themselves  from  the  camp  for  an  hour,  so  that  they  were 
about  half  the  time  under  arrest  by  the  Provost  Marshal  and 
in  the  lock-up  ;  and  they  wTere  finally  mustered  in  just  one 
week  before  they  were  mustered  out  and  sent  home.  So 
much  for  the  change  in  management,  .in  this  particular  at 
least ;  and  so  much  for  the  hindrances  and  misunderstandings 
which  did  at  least  something  to  relieve  the  State  officers 
from  the  blame  of  all  the  blunders,  hindrances,  robberies  aud 
malfeasances  which  have  occurred. 

This  somewhat  long  explanation  of  the  embarrassments 
which  arose  at  that  time  and  have  since  continued  through 
tlii'  conflict  of  State  and  Xational  authorities,  might  be  carried 
even  further  and  pointed  with  a  still  more  terrible  moral,  in 
view  of  the  later  experiment  in  which  the  General  Govern- 
ment has  attempted  to  ignore  the  States  altogether,  while 
the  States  have  been  quite  as  tenacious  as  ever  of  their 
authority — to    wit,    the    great    national    conscription.     But 


188  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

there  are  blunders  so  palpable  and  failures  so  admitted  that 
reprobation  is  literally  wasted  upon  them ;  and  the  men  uf 
this  time*  have  probably  seen  the  lasl  instance  that  will  ever 
be  exhibited  while  we  remain  a  nation,  of  a  popular 
government  throwing  off  all  confidence  in  the  patriotism  of 
the  people,  and  hoping  to  make  profitable  substitution  of  the 
principle  of  Federal  force  in  loyal  Slates.  The  present  gen- 
eration may  not  live  to  see  the  evil  impetus  thus  given  to  the 
injurious  doctrines  of  ultra  State-rights,  entirely  checked  ; 
but  let  us  hope  that  it  has  seen  the  worst  of  the  conflict, 
which  has  power,  if  directed  long  enough  by  the  hands  of  un- 
scrupulous men,  to  wreck  us  at  the  very  moment  when  we 
may  have  trimuphed  over  both  domestic  rebellion  and  foreign 
enmity. 

As  if  to  prove  that  all  the  evils  of  divided  interest  could 
not  be  found  in  one  direction,  the  city  of  Xew  York  felt 
moved  (from  patriotic  motives,  of  course)  to  take  its  little 
shy  at  proving  that  nothing  could  be  done  without  it.  Im- 
mediately after  Sumter  a  National  Defence  Committee  was 
formed,  most  of  the  members  severely  respectable,  though 
some  who  figured  most  prominently  in  it  had  not  always 
been  inactive  men  in  matters  in  which  their  own  interest  and 
that  of  the  public  happened  to  be  blended.  It  is  said  by  an 
old  dramatist  that  while  the  evil  perpetrated  by  men  is  very 
likely  to  exist  after  they  are  dead,  the  good  is  generally 
buried  in  the  same  grave  as  themselves  ("  or  words  to  that 
effect'")  ;  and  this  may  perhaps  be  the  cause  of  there  being 
very  little  remembered  to-day  with  reference  to  that  highly 
respectable  Committee,  except  that  they  were  a  little  in  the 
way,  and  that  they,  with  the  aid  of  Col.  Ellsworth,  who  was 
crazv  after  rifles  when  none  worth  the  name  could  be  fur- 
nished, supplied  the  Fire  Zouaves  with  no  less  than  seven 
different  calibres  and  thirteen  descriptions  of  weapon,  to  one 
regiment — an  advantage  in  fighting  which  the  dullest  student 
of  military  science  cannot  fail  to  perceive.  They  also  aided  the 
magnificent  Fernando  to  make  five  thousand  dollars  more  out 
of  the  celebrated  Mozart  regiment  than  he  might  otherwise 
have  been  able  to  do,  by  giving  him  a  "  haul1'  at  each  of  the 

*  September,  lb63. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  189 

overcoats  furnished  to  that  body;  and  this  benevolence,  like 
the  military  wisdom  ju>i  mentioned,  should  not  be  ignored. 
That  Committee  has  long  since  passed  away,  and  its  place 
lias  been  supplied  by  the  Joint  Committee  on  National  Af- 
fairs, of  the  Common  Council — a  stupendous  body,  princi- 
pally composed  of  gentlemen  of  classical  education  and  re- 
finement, who  Have  been  all  the  while  immaculate  in  gloves; 
ready  to  go  to  Washington  or  Albany,  at  any  time,  to  consult 
with  the  President  or  the  Governor  on — no  one  has  an  exact 
idea  what;  indispensable  at  banquets  and  balls  supplied  to 
the  whole  "tag,  rag  and  bob-tail"  of  politics  by  the  public 
money;  and  at  times  profusely  immense  in  their  telegraphic 
despatches,  especially  when  New  York  was  about  being 
bombarded  b}r  the  rebel  iron-clads  and  new  fortifications 
were  necessary  to  be  built  the  same  night.  Something  may 
have  been  forgotten,  of  the  distinguished  services  of  both 
these  Committees,  but  human  memory  is  fallible,  and  at  the 
present  moment  the  impression  exists  that  neither  was  ever 
much  else  than  a  shallow  and  somewhat  expensive  humbug. 
But  all  this  while  the  "  thirty  thousand"  clothing  contract 
has  been  waiting  for  its  ventilation.  Let  it  wait  no  longer. 
Clothing  was  wanted,  and  wanted  as  quickly  as  possible,  for 
the  thirty  thousand  troops  being  raised  by  the  State  of  New 
York.  That  it  should  be  respectable  and  comfortable,  such 
as  would  befit  citizen  soldiery  going  forth  to  the  defence  of 
their  country,  was  a  natural  understanding  that  needed  no 
words  of  contract  to  enforce  it.  Without  such  an  under- 
standing in  his  own  mind,  no  soldier,  however  patriotic, 
would  have  enlisted.  That  the  State  and  the  country  should 
be  fairly  dealt  by  in  furnishing  it,  was  as  much  understood, 
in  the  mind  of  every  honorable  man,  as  it  would  have  been 
had  the  purchaser  been  a  private  individual  and  a  personal 
friend:  The  State  Board  of  Officers  entrusted  their  Trea- 
surer with  the  duty  of  making  the  contract  for  such  clothing, 
though  into  whatever  blunders  or  errors  he  and  the  whole 
State  Board  fell,  the  report  of  the  committee  of  the  New 
York  legislature  on  these  operations  makes  it  evident  that 
they  had  the  company  of  some  very  high-sounding  patriotic 
names  that  have  since  then  been  continuallv  recurring  in  the 


190  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

newspapers  as  the  strongest  and  loudest  friends  of  the  Tnion 
and  the  instructors  of  government  in  the  whole  national 
policy.  The  Treasurer  found  respectable  and  reliable  persons 
in  the  city  of  New  York,  doing  extensive  business,  and 
entered  into  a  contract  with  them  to  supply  several  thousand 
suits,  at  such  prices  as  should  have  procured  plain  but 
strong  and  durable  clothing  for  the  service.  The  manufac- 
ture of  the  clothing  went  on,  and  the  soldiers  waited  for  it. 
Suddenly,  aud  without  any  one  being  aware  whence  the 
whisper  proceeded,  there  grew  a  rumor  that  these  persons 
were  not  making  the  clothing  of  such  goods  as  would  quite 
fulfil  the  needs  of  the  soldiers  or  the  expectations  of  the  State 
officers;  This  could  not  be  permitted,  by  any  means  :  this 
must  be  made  straight,  at  any  hazard.  Gov.  Morgan  held  a 
consultation  with  the  new  Quartermaster-General  of  the 
State,*  and  both  the  officials  decided  that  the  plan  of  the 
Treasurer,  to  have  one  of  his  own  employees  inspect  the 
clothing,  must  be  modified,  materially.  At  the  suggestion 
of  the  Governor,  and  from  a  list  furnished  by  him,  the  Quar- 
termaster selected  four  men  whose  standing  in  society  and 
advantages  in  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  qualities  of 
goods,  would  insure  at  once  that  no  bribery  could  be 
practiced  upon  them  and  that  they  could  not  well  be  deceived 
as  to  the  worth  of  the  garments  they  should  inspect,  Now 
would  every  opportunity  for  dissatisfaction  and  faultfinding 
be  most  certainly  removed.  Now  every  thing  was  sure  to  be 
correct  and  satisfactory.  Seemingly  no  more  effectual  pre- 
caution could  have  been  taken  by  the  Governor  and  Quarter- 
master-General, who  were  both  undoubtedly  beyond  reproach 
in  the  matter,  and  thoroughly  in  earnest ;  but  the  same  evil 
fate  and  worse  management  which  had  at  first  taken  the  task 
of  procuring  clothing  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Quartermaster 
and  put  it  into  those  of  the  State  Board,  seemed  disposed  to 
follow  to  the  end.  The  manufacture  went  on,  and  the  requisite 
number  of  suits  were  finished,  inspected,  declared  satisfactory, 
and  delivered.  When  delivered,  and  when  inspected  by  the 
practical  eyes  of  men  who  were  to  wear  them,  a  certain 
proportion  wTere  respectable  and  almost  up  to  the  standard 

*  General  Chester  E.  Arthur. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  192 

required  by  the  contract,  and  the  rest  the  veriest  insult  to 
the  men  for  the  clothing  of  whose  backs  and  limbs  tliov  were 
intended,  thai  ever  emanated  from  the  most  disreputable 
slop-shop  in  the  universe.  It  would  seem  that  the  shelves 
of  all  the  cloth-houses  on  the  continent  must  have  been 
ransacked  for  the  oldest,  thinnest,  most  rotten  and  moth- 
eaten  specimens  of  satinet,*  that  had  been  accumulating  as 
refuse  stock  for  the  previous  twenty  years.  Straws  could 
have  been  shot  through  some  of  the  garment*)  they  were  so 
thin,  open, -coarse  and  "  sleezy"  (for  the  meaning  of  which 
latter  term,  reference  may  be  made  to  the  first  tailor  of  the 
reader's  acquaintance);  in  others  whole  generations  of 
greedy  moths  seemed  to  have  been  running  riot;  and  still 
others  were  so  rotten  from  long  lying  and  dampness  on  the 
shelves,  that  there  was  no  difficulty  whatever  in  holding  up 
the  material  aud  thrusting  the  finger  through  it  as  it  might 
have  been  thrust  through  soaked  blotting-paper. 

This  was  the  stuff,  unfit  for  any  negro  in  a  Southern  cot- 
ton-field, designed  for  the  American  white  man  to  wear, 
when  performing  the  highest  and  holiest  duty  known  to  the 
citizen— that  of  battling  for  the  liberty  and  honor  of  his  coun- 
try !  This  was  the  mode  in  which  certain  American  citizens 
testified  to  their  devoted  patriotism,  their  commercial  in- 
tegrity and  their  appreciation  of  the  needs  of  -the  soldier. 
This  was  the  stuff,  too,  that  had  been  inspected  by  men 
holding  the  very  highest  position,  whose  signatures  to  the 
indorsement  upon  every  package  gave  assurance  that  they 
had    examined   and    approved    every  garment. 

But  it  is  the  fate  of  scape-goats,  alwaj^s,  to  carry  the  sins 
of  others  as  well  as  their  own  ;  and  this  affair  furnishes  no 
exception  to  the  rule.  The  first  operations  of  any  class  that 
chance  to  come  into  public  view,  startle  much  worse  than 
corresponding  ones  which  follow  ;  and  other  soldiers'  clothing 

*  Many  persons,  probably,  have  no  knowledge  of  the  manufacture  of  the 
material  known  as  "satinet,"  and  its  difference  from  cloth.  Whereas 
"cloth,"  in  its  ordinary  acceptation,  is  a  material  made  entirely  of  wool, 
"satinet"  is  made  with  cotton  warp  and  wool  filling,  and  has  a  peculiar* 
faculty  of  becoming  gray,  thread  bare  and  unsightly,  after  a  very  small 
proportion  of  wear.  What  rotten  and  moth'-eaten  satinet  must  be,  may  bo 
imagined  oven  by  those  who  have  never  been  brought  into  contact  with  it. 


192  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

has,  since  that  time,  been  quite  as  badly  made,  quite  as  inef- 
ficiently inspected,  and  all  parties  remained  the  purest  patriots 
in  public  estimation — stars  in  society,  paragons  in  politics, 
patterns  in  benevolence,  admired  in  spirit-stirring  oratory, 
and,  perhaps,  saints  in  the  calendar. 

In  another  respect,  too,  the  scape-goat  comparison  holds 
good,  as  none  better  know  than  those  who  have  escaped  public 
attention  while  it  so  seriously  damaged  others.  The  cloth 
dealers  are  entitled  to  their  full  share  of  the  odium,  in  this 
and  other  instances  of  the  manufacture  of  worthless  clothing. 
That  they  sold  to  the  clothing  contractors  material  even  more 
worthless  than  the  latter  knew,  is  beyond  doubt.  It  has 
been  seen  what  Charles  Holt,  a  type  man  of  this  class, 
directed  his  partner  to  purchase  in  Europe,  in  view  to  meet 
a  large  demand  for  soldiers'  clothing  material — the  cheapest 
and  poorest  cloths  that  could  be  found  of  any  approach  to 
the  required  color ;  aud  the  very  day  on  which  his  name  ap- 
peared in  the  daily  papers  appended  to  a  subscription  of  one 
thousand  dollars  to  the  Union  cause,  at  one  of  the  great  mer- 
chants' meetings  of  that  week, — case  after  case  of  the  most 
worthless  satinets  that  the  Eastern  markets  could  furnish, 
was  being  carted  up  to  the  store  of  Charles  Holt  & 
Andrews,  from  one  of  the  Boston  lines  of  steamers.  Where 
a  part  of  the  bad  materials  of  the  "  respectable  firm''  came 
from,  he  knew,  if  we  do  not ;  and  other  dealers  of  the  same 
pure,  high-toned  and  patriotic  impulses,  could  have  explained 
the  place  and  mode  of  procurement  of  most  of  the  others. 
They  kept  out  of  the  public  view,  however:  the  clothing- 
manufacturers  loaded  themselves  with  an  odium  which  will 
never  leave  them  while  a  man  of  this  generation  remains 
alive,  while  their  equally  culpable  coadjutors,  the  cloth-dealers, 
almost  totally  escaped  and  have  done  so  while  furnishing 
worthless  materials  throughout  the  entire  war. 

Does  it  seem  that  something  too  much  has  been  said  of 
these  frauds  against  the  government,  practised  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  war,  and  that  somewhat  too  intense  reprobation 
has  been  bestowed  upon  them  ?  They  err  who  think  so,  or 
who  believe  that  even  half  enough  has  yet  been  said  and 
done  to  stamp  the  human  vipers  with  infamy.     It  is  not  only 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  193 

that  they  were,  to  the  extent  of  their  action,  committing  mat- 
ricide by  crippling,  paralyzing  and  rendering  helpless  so  that 
others  could  murder  her,  the  country  that  was  their  mother  : 
nearly  every  swindling  contract,  then  and  throughout  the  war, 
has  done  something  more  and  worse  than  this.  Every  rotten 
old  boat  sent  to  sea  with  Union  soldiers  on  board,  likely  to 
sink  at  any  moment  and  bury  them  at  one  fatal  plunge,  has 
been  a  bid  for  the  whple&aJe  murder  of  brothers,  such  as  the 
vt'iy  fiends  in  hell  must  have  contemplated  with  infernal  ad- 
miration. Every  shoddy  suit,  every  defective  blanket,  and 
every  pair  of  shoes  with  the  soles  pasted  to  the  uppers  (no 
fancy,  this  latter,  but  something  that  has  been  seen  by  too 
many  who  were  brought  into  contact  with  quartermasters' 
operations)  has  been  the  means  of  making  a  Union  soldier 
suffer  what  he  need  not  have  suffered  in  the  chances  of  war, 
and  at  last  brought  him  to  crippled  limbs  or  consump- 
tion. Every  mouldy  biscuit  or  pound  of  gangrened  beef  has 
been  a  bid  for  sickness  in  the  field,  or  fever,  delirium  and 
death  in  the  hospital.  Every  defective  arm,  every  sawdust 
shell  and  every  worthless  horse,  has  left  him  at  the  mercy  of 
a  fierce  and  unscrupulous  enemy.  Every  dollar  swindled 
away  from  the  public  purse  has  been  so  much  subtracted 
from  the  very  life-blood  of  the  nation.  Every  public  theft 
has  been  an  effort  for  the  public  downfall.  Every  swindling 
shoddy  contractor,  so  far  as  his  abilities  went,  has  been  a 
national  murderer.  Every  person,  of  whatever  name  or 
employment,  buying  for  the  government  what  was  worthless 
or  injurious — whether  guns  known  to  be  worthless  (whether 
with  or  without  touch-holes — a  mooted  point)  ;  ships  fitted 
for  any  other  service  than  the  one  intended  ;  broken-kneed 
stage-horses,  passed  for  the  consideration  of  two  dollars  per 
head  by  the  inspector ;  every  one  of  this  class  of  operators, 
of  whom  the  list  might  be  extended  indefinitely,  with  or  with- 
out his  own  intention  has  been  an  accessary  to  what  may 
eventually  be  the  national  death.  And  if  there  is  a  special 
providence  at  once  watching  over  nations  and  individuals, 
the  day  of  doom  that  may  be  coming  to  the  nation  and  its 
domestic  foes — will  be  a  day  to  be  remembered. 

Say  not,  oh   historian   of  the  coming  time,  that  too  much 
12 


194  THE      DA  Y  9      OF      >  II  O  I>  D  Y. 

stress  has  boon  laid  upon  those  terrible  dishonesties,  horo  or 
elsewhere,  and  that  the  true  lover  of  his  country  will  do 
something:  to  conceal  the  Bins  and  follies  of  that  country, 
instead  of  bringing  them  with  still  more  painful  prominence 
before  the  eyes  of  the  world.  Every  withering  utterance 
may  be  a  pang:  to  the  speaker;  but  the  uninspired  prophet 
of  to-day  must  feel  as  his  inspired  prototype  of  the  early 
ages  may  have  done — that  wo  is  him  if  he  speaks  not  the 
truth  of  the  people  of  his  own  blood,  even  as  he  might  of 
those  removed  from  him  by  race  and  distance.  To  "foul  his 
owu  nest"  by  decrying  it,  was  thought  to  be  a  detestable 
feature  in  the  conduct  of  the  bird  of  the  fable  ;  but  men  can- 
not always  be  subjected  to  the  same  rules.  Not  the  in 
which  he  must  ever  love,  but  the  unclean  birds  that  make 
their  home  within  it,  must  be  the  theme  of  denunciation  ; 
and  the  Brutus  of  to-day  must  reverse  history  and  sit  inv 
judgment  upon  his  father,  or  even  his  mother,  if  need  1 
If  not,  and  if  reprobation  is  to  be  withheld  because  it  might 
strike  those  bound  to  us  by  the  ties  of  kindred  and  country, 
all  future  time  must  change  its  estimation  of  some  of  the 
brightest  examples  of  old  heroism,  and  Demosthenes  and 
Cicero  must  be  hurled  down  from  the  high  places  which  they 
won  by  denouncing,  not  the  countries  that  gave  them  birth, 
but  the  vipers  of  disloyalty  and  pitiable  meanness  who  but 
for  them  would  have  crawled  in  continued  security  until  they 
had  given  the  last  sting  to  national  existence. 

Write  not.  oh  historian  of  the  coming  time,  words  that 
shall  excuse  or  even  undervalue  such  disloyalty,  until  this 
generation  has  passed  away  and  there  are  no  longer  those 
remaining  whose  cheeks  have  burned  and  whose  hearts  have 
bled  at  the  alternate  shame  and  sorrow  forced  upon  them. 
Wait,  at  least,  until  the  carriages  cease  to  splash  us  with 
their  mud.  as  they  roll  by  with  plumed  and  diamonded  dames 
■ — the  carriages,  the  pinnies,  the  diamonds,  and  even  the  r#- 
pper (ability,  all  achieved  by  trading  upon  the  necessities  of 
the  nation.  Wait  until  Mayors  of  Cities,  Honorable  Mem- 
bers of  Congress,  Senators,  Governors,  and  those  who  rule 
cities  and  fill  high  places  in  every  relation  of  civil  life,  cease 
to  offend  our  moral  noses  in  the  street  by  the  aroma  of  cor- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  195 

ruption  which  they  carry  about  with  them,  shaming  us  in 
our  poverty  if  we  wear  a  thread-battfe  coat  or  fall  into  the 
misfortune  of  a  note  sent  to  protest,  while  the  sleek  raiment 
they  wear  has  been  in  too  many  instances  purchased  by  send- 
ing to  protest  every  feeling  of  patriotism  and  every  dictate 
of  honesty  !  Wait  until  the  shadow  of  death  passes  away 
from  homes  to  which  the  cries  of  suffering  soldiers  who  went 
out  from  them  have  come  up  too  late,  asking  for  aid  from 
private  hands  to  replace  the  ragged  clothes  in  which  they 
were  shivering,  to  supply  shoes  to  their  naked  feet,  and  to 
give  them  blankets  that  would  afford  them  shelter  from  the 
damp  ground  on  which  they  were  sucking  up  pestilence  at 
every  pore  of  their  bodies.  Wait  until  the  poor  mother  has 
at  least  partially  forgotten  her  darling  boy,  murdered  in 
this  manner,  long  before  the  bullet  of  an  enemy  had  the  op- 
portunity of  reaching  him  :  wait  until  the  country  has  to 
some  extent  ceased  groaning  over  the  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands of  lives  and  the  millions  of  wealth  wasted  in  the 
blunders  and  inefficiencies  of  management — every  single  life 
and  every  single  dollar  thus  wasted,  being  something  to  be 
deplored  ten  times  more  than  ten  times  their  number  sacri- 
ficed with  Reason  supplying  the  altar  and  Honesty  holding 
the  sacrificial  knife  ! 

For  blood,  the  life  of  the  individual,  and  wealth,  the  life- 
blood  of  the  nation,  are  so  intimately  blended  together  that 
no  power  can  dissever  them  in  the  estimate  of  loss  And  in 
the  same  wrong  which  wastes  either  or  both,  national  success 
is  made  impossible  and  national  disaster  inevitable.  "  Like 
master,  like  man  !"  is  a  motto  holding  quite  as  good,  to-day 
and  in  speaking  of  the  operations  of  a  great  war,  as  it  was 
yesterday  and  when  the  varying  characters  of  farmers  and 
their  hired  laborers  were  to  be  considered.  When  inefficiency 
and  dishonesty  equip  a  regiment  and  select  its  officers,  it 
need  be  no  wonder  to  find  the  regiment  unled  in  the  hour  of 
conflict,  the  officers  skulking,  the  men  disorganized,  the 
weapons  uncared  for  and  misused,  companies  formed  in  line 
by  backing  them  up  against  the  nearest  fence,  and  the  sharp, 
ringing  words  of  the  command  to  mount,  in  the  cavalry  arm, 
changed  to  that  somewhat  ambiguous  double  order  which  has 


196  THE      BAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

for  months  past  been  supplying  merriment  to  the  newspapers  : 
"  Prepare  to  git  upon  your  critters  ! — Git !"  And  under  offi- 
cers so  appointed,  and  who  have  seen  such  examples  among 
the  highest  of  those  from  whom  they  have  themselves  derived 
authority,  wilful  waste  of  the  public  property  is  no  wonder, 
but  a  natural  result  No  wonder  when  we  find  hundn 
tons  of  quartermasters'  stores  and  army  supplies  recklessly 
burned  the  moment  there  is  any  possibility  of  an  attack  upon 
them,  by  officers  too  ignorant,  too  indolent  or  too  cowardly 
to  defend  them  or  superintend  their  removal  to  a  place  of 
safety;  no  wonder  that  muskets  have  remained  piled  by  the 
thousand,  out-of-doors  and  exposed  to  rain  and  rust — that 
weapons  have  been  flung  away  on  march  or  retreat,  as  if  they 
had  cost  no  more  than  so  many  straws  or  corn-stalks  gleaned 
from  a  stubble-field  in  autumn — that  hay  has  been  left  rotting 
by  the  ton  on  the  levee  at  Cairo,  while  the  cavalry-horses 
withiu  a  hundred  miles  were  literally  starving  for  the  want 
of  it — that  even  on  Capitol  Hill  at  Washington,  the  dragoon 
quartered  there  has  habitually  flung  down  the  hay  of  his 
horse  into  the  mud,  to  be  trampled  into  manure,  and  his 
corn  in  the  midst  of  it,  to  be  trampled  and  wasted  in  the 
same  manner,  or  to  be  appropriated  by  bands  of  predatory 
hogs  that  better  understood  its  value  and  its  use  ! 

All  these  details  and  suggestions  are  heart-sickening — let 
there  be  no  more  of  them.  The  whole  melancholy  story  is 
told  in  two  brief  words — dishonesty  and  incapacity.  And 
yet  one  brief  word  will  sum  up  the  whole  still  more  con- 
cisely and  more  appropriately  for  this  connection — "shoddy." 

That  "  righteousness  exaltcth  a  nation,  but  sin  is  a  reproach 
to  any  people,"  is  a  dictum  long  ago  set  down  by  an  authority 
that  not  many  men  are  rash  enough  to  question.  It  remains 
to  be  seen  whether  we  have  shown  vice  and  dishonesty  enough 
to  be  doomed  beyond  hope,  or  whether  there  has  yet  been 
shown  enough  of  virtue,  bravery,  patriotism  and  self-sacrificing 
devotion,  to  redeem  in  the  eyes  of  the  God  of  Nations  the 
wide-spread  Sodom  of  dishonesty  and  unfaithfulness,  and 
leave  us  yet  worthy  to  be  a  people  in  His  sight. 

And  here,  passing  again  from  the  general  subject  of  the 
blunders  and  dishonesties  which  came  in  with  the  commence- 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  197 

ment  of  the  war  and  have  to  some  degree  cursed  the  strug- 
gling nation  up  to  the  present  moment, — the  careers  of  parti- 
cular persons  named  in  this  narration  must  be  rapidly  fol- 
lowed; and  happy  indeed  will  humanity  be  if  the  discovery 
is  not  made  that  there  are  deeper  and  deadlier  crimes  against 
patriot  ism,  than  even  those  which  have  been  so  plainly  char- 
acterized in  this  most  uninteresting  and  yet  most  necessary 
chapter. 


CHAPTER    X. 

The  Departure  of  the  Fire  Zouaves— Public  Confidence 
in  them — The  scene  of  the  29th  of  April — Speeches, 
parades  and  presentations — Retrospectory — How  Burt- 
nett  Haviland  kept  his  Resolution — The  Extraordi- 
nary Friendship  of  Charles  Holt,  merchant— The 
Parting  of  Husband  and  Wife — How  an  unlucky  Box 
tumbled  oyer,  and  how  Tim  wrote  a  Letter  tn  conse- 
quence. 

The  First  Regiment  of  Fire  Zouaves  left  the  city  of  New 
York  for  the  seat  of  war,  on  Monday,  the  Twenty-ninth  of 
April,  1861.  To  the  brave  fellows  who  composed  it  and  to 
the  ardent  young  Colonel  in  command,  the  day  of  departure 
seemed  to  be  an  age  after  the  call  of  the  President  for  troops 
had  been  made,  though  really  only  two  weeks  had  elapsed 
since  the  Proclamation.  They  had  intended  to  get  off  earlier, 
and  would  have  done  so  but  for  some  of  the  difficulties  in  or- 
ganization inseparable  from  the  formation  of  any  peculiar 
body  of  soldiery,  and  some  of  the  blunders  in  management, 
on  the  part  of  well-meaning  outsiders,  to  which  reference  has 
before  been  made.  Every  nerve  had  been  strained  by  the 
Chief  Engineer  of  the  New  York  Fire  Department,*  the 
Treasurer  of  the  Fundf  so  sacred  to  the  firemen,  and  the  other 

*  The  present  popular  Chief  Engineer,  now  serving  his  second  term — Mr. 
John  Decker. 

f  Mr.  John  S.  Giles,  whose  namo  ha3  for  many  years  been  identified  with 
the  best  interests  of  New  York  firemen. 


198  THE      DAYS      OF      SIIOLBY. 

officers  and  leading  men  of  the  Department,  at  once  to  enable 
the  regiment  to  move  early  and  to  make  it  as  practically  effi- 
cient  as  possible.  Every  Engine,  Carriage  and  Truck-house 
in  the  city  had  been  made  practically  a  recruiting  office,  the 
interests  of  the  fire-service  for  the  time  almost  forgotten  in 
the  new  and  absorbing  work  of  patriotism;  and  the  number 
of  active  firemen  going  away  seemed  so  great  (nearly  one- 
quarter  of  the  whole  enrolled  force  in  the  city )  that  some  of  the 
careful  and  not-over-sanguine  property-owners  believed  that 
their  bouses,  in  the  event  of  a  fire,  would  be  left  to  burn  at 
leisure.  Flags  had  waved  and  music  sounded,  universally, 
among  the  men  so  long  known  as  the  defenders  of  life  and 
property  against  the  devouring  element;  but  for  a  sterner 
and  nobler  purpose  than  when  they  had  merely  waved  and 
sounded  for  an  Annual  Parade  or  the  torch-light  reception  of 
a  favorite  company  coming  home  from  a  visit  or  a  tournament. 
But  they  had  not  been  necessary  to  induce  the  enlistment  of 
enough  men  to  form  the  regiment — far  from  it.  More  than 
another  regiment  of  men.  in  numbers,  had  made  application 
for  places  in  the  corps,  and  been  denied  from  some  defect  in 
health  or  some  known  obliquity  of  moral  character.  The  Fire 
Zouaves,  both  in  the  intention  of  Col.  Ellsworth  and  the  lead- 
ing spirits  of  the  Department,  were  to  be  picked  men,  ready 
for  any  service  and  capable  of  reflecting  honor  on  the  city  that 
sent  them  forth ;  and  all  fondly  believed  that  the  selection  had 
been  made  successfully.  If  ever  a  regiment  was  sent  out 
with  full  confidence  and  bright  prospects,  this  had  that  dis- 
tinction. Others,  composed  of  miscellaneous  material  and  of 
men  whose  courage  and  endurance  had  never  been  proved, 
might  cover  themselves  with  glory  or  fall  into  comparative 
disgrace:  the  Fire  Zouaves,  with  Ellsworth  at  their  head  and 
otherwise  officered*  by  men  commanding  the  entire  confidence 
of  their  fellows,  had  no  peradventure  in  their  coming  career, 
which  every  omen  indicated  and  assured. 

*  The  field  and  leading  line  officers  of  this  regiment  were  as  follows: — 

Colonel,  Elmer  E.  Ellsworthj  Lieut. -Col.,  :  Major,  John  A.  Cregier; 

Captains:  Company  A..  John  CVyle  :  Co.  B.,  Edward  Byrne,  Co.  C,  Michael 
C.  Murphy  :  Co.  D.,  John  Downey  :  Co.  E.,  John  B.  Leverich  :  Co.  P.,  Wil- 
liam H.  Burns:  Co.  G..  Michael  A.  Tagen  :  Co.  H.,  William  Hackett;  Co.  I., 
John  Wildey  ;  Co.  J.,  Andrew  D.  Purteil. 


THE      DAYS      O  F      SHOD  D  Y.  199 

It  has  been  no  unusual  circumstance  for  the  head  of  a  family 
to  make  certain  calculations  of  the  future  of  its  members. 
Of  half  a  dozen  sons  and  as  many  daughters,  the  career  of 
each  has  been  foreshadowed  to  the  quick  eye  of  the  parent. 
In  John,  Peter,  Thomas,  William  and  Timothy,  there  was 
something  for  which  to  fear.  John  was  laborious  and 
obedient,  but  dull-witted;  Peter  keen-witted  and  lively,  but 
unmanageable  ;  Thomas,  a  good  boy  in  other  respects,  lacked 
health  and  stamina;  William  had  no  mental  fault,  but  was 
really  so  insignificant-looking  that  nothing  brilliant  could  be 
predicted  of  him  ;  and  Timothy  had  never  been  any  thing 
more  than  a  "  runt,"  looked  down  upon  and  despised  by  all 
the  other  members  of  the  family.  It  has  not  been  very  easy 
for  the  parent  to  decide  upon  the  future  of  either  of  them, 
each  having  some  drawback  or  foible  making  thorough  suc- 
cess in  life  unlikely.  But  Walter— ah,  there  at  last  has  been 
a  fixed  and  well-grounded  hope  !  Walter  was  so  handsome, 
so  intelligent,  so  brave,  so  forward  in  his  learning,  so  ready 
at  every  thing  to  which  he  turned  his  hand,  so  much  a 
favorite  with  all  who  met  him— that  there  could  be  no  failure 
in  his  life  and  no  question  of  the  brilliant  celebrity  at 
which  he  would  arrive.  So  of  Clara,  the  pet  daughter. 
While  Jane  and  Susan  and  Mary  and  Martha  and  little 
Esther  had  each  some  fault  or  weakness  which  threatened 
their  future,  Clara,  the  beauty  and  the  favorite,  could  be 
nothing  less  than  the  wife  of  a  noble  aud  honored  man,  and  her- 
self one  of  the  queens  of  the  society  surrounding  her.  The 
parent  has  sometimes  been  called  to  bitter  reflections  on  past 
calculations  and  the  uncertainty  of  all  human  hopes,  when 
John  and  Peter  and  Thomas  and  William  and  Timothy,  all 
humdrum  but  very  respectable  heads  of  growing  families, 
with  broad  acres  calling  them  master  and  money  in  bank, 
have  gathered  home  to  the  funeral  of  Walter,  brilliant  genius 
who  could  do  nothing  practical,  who  tried  every  thing  and 
partially  succeeded  in  everything  but  fully  succeeded  in  noth- 
ing, and  died  at  last  penniless  and  urihonored,  of  a  broken 
hear1  and  a  ruined  constitution.  Or  when  the  brothers  and 
Jane  and  Susan  and  Mary  and  Martha  and  little  Esther,  all 
plain  and  unassuming  bur  respectable   heads    of    families, 


200  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

have  been  obliged  to  read  through  Minding  tears  the  shame 
of  beautiful  and  gifted  Clara,  wandered  away  alike  from  her 
old  home  and  the  teachings  of  those  who  loved  her,  and  lost 
thenceforth  to  them  and  to  herself. 

Which  train  of  reflection  may  or  may  not  be  thought  to 
have  legitimate  connection  with  the  expectations  formed  of 
the  Fire  Zouaves  when  they  went  away,  in  comparison  with 
other  regiments,  and  the  result  realized  from  those  expecta- 
tions, under  the  same  comparison, — according  as  the  r 
possesses  or  lacks  the  faculty  of  making  apposite  compari- 
sions  out  of  things  in  themselves  very  different — seeing  in  a 
sheep  sometimes  a  reminder  of  a  saw-mill,  or  in  a  penny- 
whistle  a  suggestion  of  the  Parthenon. 

It  was  a  brilliant  spectacle  presented  in  the  streets  of  Newi 
York  on  that  day  when  this  oddly-favorite  regiment  marched. 
Perhaps  not  so  many  saw  the  departure,  as  had  attended  the 
going  away  of  the  Seventh  and  of  the  Sixty-ninth  ;  but  no 
others  had  been  so  honored  in  a  general  ovation.  And  this 
turn-out  was  a  cheerful  one,  as  the  first-named  had  been  sad. 
A  few  days  had  materially  changed  the  popular  feeling. 
Washington,  which  had  been  threatened,  was  already  pro- 
nounced "  safe''  in  the  hands  of  thousands  of  soldiers  who 
had  gathered  from  every  loyal  State  and  made  a  promising 
lodgment  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Potomac.  And  that 
few  days  had  already  inured  the  people  to  the  sights  and 
sounds  of  warlike  preparation,  so  that  the  files  of  soldiers 
passing  down  the  street  on  their  way  to  the  scene  of  conflict, 
no  longer  seemed  to  be  going  martyr-like  into  the  jaws  of 
some  great  dark  monster,  from  which  not  one  in  ten  could 
ever  emerge  alive.  Men  had  already  ceased  to  be  oppressed 
by  nightmare  dreams  of  the  great  horror  which  lay  beyond 
the  Potomac ;  and  women  no  longer  threw  their  arms  around 
their  children  when  alone  with  them,  under  the  impression 
that  to-morrow  they  must  be  fatherless,  even  if  the  loyal 
States  should  not  be  overrun  by  red-handed  rebels  and  them- 
selves murdered  on  their  own  hearth-stones.  Even  the 
theatres  had  ceased  to  be  a  mockery,  and  habitues  had 
returned  to  the  practice  of  their  nightly  visits ;  while  the 
crowds   on   Broadway  looked  again  into  the  decorated  win- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  201 

dows  and  the  ladies  recommenced  their  purchases  of  finery: 
so  rapidly  do  we  accommodate  ourselves  to  any  novelty  or 
any  necessity. 

Thousand  upon  thousand  of  spectators  gathered  at  Broad- 
way and  Canal  Street,  to  see  the  manly  fellows  in  their  natty 
grev  Zouave  suits  picked  out  with  red,  and  with  red  shirts 
and  the  red  chasseur  cap,  come  out  from  their  head-quarters 
and  form  ranks  for  the  reception  of  colors  and  the  subsequent 
march  to  the  place  of  embarkation.  Still  other  thousands 
lined  Broadway  from  Canal  Street  to  the  Astor  House,  down 
which  the  pageant  was  to  pass.  The  air  seemed  literally 
thick  with  waving  flags  and  answering  handkerchiefs,  while 
every  word  was  one  of  confidence  and  joy  and  every  shout 
one  of  unalloyed  hope  for  the  country  under  such  manifesta- 
tions. Twelve  hundred  firemen  were  in  the  ranks,  ready  to 
meet  a  different  foe  but  scarcely  a  more  dangerous  one  than 
that  they  had  so  long  battled, — when  a  little  after  noon  the  last 
preliminary  arrangement  was  completed,  the  ladies,  the  offi- 
cers of  the  regiment,  and  the  Committee  of  the  Fire  Depart- 
ment had  assumed  their  places,  and  a  deafening  cheer  rent 
the  air  as  the  tall  form  and  high  Norman  face  of  Wickham* 
wrere  seen  as  he  stepped  forward  to  entrust  to  the  Zouaves 
the  special  banner  prepared  for  them  by  the  Department. 
And  something  of  what  the  loyal  citizens  of  New  York  ex- 
pected of  the  regiment  was  embodied  in  the  words  of  this  man 
who  had  once  faced  death  in  a  more  terrible  form  than  it 
wears  upon  any  battle-field, f  as  he  said:  "People  have  high 
hope  in  you.  You  have  established  a  character  for  noble 
daring  which  has  secured  the  admiration  and  the  tribute  of 
all.  When  the  fire-bell  rings  in  the  night  the  citizens  rest 
secure,  for  they  know  that  the  New  York  firemen  are  omnipo- 
tent to  arrest  the  progress  of  destruction.  *  *  *  You  are 
called  to  quench  the  flames  of  rebellion,  and  we  know  that 
whether  in  the  midst  of  burning  cities  or  on  the  heated  fields/ 

*  Mr.  William  II.  Wickham,  then  President  of  the  Fire  Department. 

■f  Mr.  Wickham,  when  Secretary  of  the  North  Atlantic  Steamship  Com- 
pany, was  one  of  the  survivors  of  the  terrible  foundering  of  the  steamship  San 
Francisco,  on  the  night  of  the  5th  January,  1856 — an  event  scarcely  paralleled 
in  iu  horrors  even  by  that  of  the  Central  America. 


202  THE      D  A  Y  S  .    O  F      SHODDY. 

of  war,  you  will  sustain  your  own  high  character,  and  that 
th;>  banner  will  ever  wave  in  triumph,  though  it  wave  in  the 
midst  of  ruins/'     Then,  amid  chi  ..ore  deafening,  fol- 

lowed the  response  nf  Col.  Ellsworth,  his  sad,  pale  face,  Btill 
msly  earnest,  at  once  foreshadowing  his  reckless  bravely 
and  his  doom, — promising  that  if  ever  the  regiment  came  back, 
it  would  brlii--  those  colors  unspotted  as  then,  and  pledging 
his  own  life  and  the  lives  of  all  his  command  to  thai  sacred 
vow.  There  might  have  been  a  tremor  in  the  voice,  though 
there  would  not  have  been  a  colder  pallor  on  his  young  cheek, 
had  he  known  how  soon  his  own  share  in  that  vow  would  be 
fulfilled,  and  what  was  to  be  the  fate  of  those  colors,  left  uu- 
cared  for,  soiled  and  ragged  in  the  lumber-room  of  an  old 
warehouse  at  Alexandria,  while  the  regiment  went  to  meet 
its  ruin,  and  only  rescued  long  after,  to  hang  ingloriously 
among  the  trophies  of  the  Department. 

Then  followed,  amid  demonstrations  not  less  enlivening, 
another  presentation  which  showed  the  respect  and  confidence 
borne  in  time  of  need  by  the  millionaires  of  the  great  com- 
mercial city,  towards  those  whom  they  were  in  the  habit  of 
holding  as  nobodies  in  the  social  scale  under  other  circum- 
stances, and  passing  without  more  recognition  than  would  be 
bestowed  upon  the  most  abject  inferiors.  The  wife  of  one  of 
the  quintuple  millionaires  of  New  York*  had  prepared  with 
her  own  hands  and  purchased  with  an  atom  of  her  wealth, 
another  stand  of  colors  to  be  borne  by  the  Zouaves ;  and  these 
were  presented  through  that  officer  who  has  now  won  the 
right  to  be  considered  one  of  the  guardians  of  the  flag,  from 
his  noble  command  for  the  instant  death  of  the  wretch  daring 
to  profane  by  lowering  it.f  This  done,  and  the  second  pre 
sentation  answered  by  the  young  Zouave  Colonel,  the  regi- 
ment moved  away,  under  flaunting  flags  and  waving  hand- 
kerchiefs, amid  shouts  and  cheers  and  the  sounding  of  martial 
music,  and  escorted  by  the  flower  of  the  whole  Fire  Depart- 
ment, down  Broadway  to  the  Park  and  the  Astor  House, 
where  still  another  stand  of  colors  were  to  be  presented  to 
this  corps  of  men  who  had  all  their  lives  been  accustomed  to 

*  Mrs.  Augusta  Astor,  wife  of  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  Jr. 
|  General  John  A.  Dix. 


T  H  B      I)  A  Y  3      OF      SHODDY.  203 

few  fabrics  softer  in  texture  than  the  red  flannel  of  their  fire- 
shirts,  but  who  seemed  now  destined  to  be  smothered  under 
costly  silks  that  the  fairest  hands  had  embroidered. 

It  was  nearly  evening  when,  the  presentation  at  the  Astor 
House  accomplished  and  their  steps  on  Broadway  retraced, 
the  regiment  filed  down  the  long  pier  at  the  foot  of  Canal 
Street,  to  their  embarkation  on  board  the  old  Baltic,  once  so 
proudly  bearing-  her  share  of  the  honors  of  that  Collins  Line 
which  disputed  the  empire  of  the  sea  with  the  Cunardcrs,  but 
ever  since  lying,  except  at  long  intervals,  in  sullen  and  mo- 
tionless discontent  at  the  ruin  of  so  brave  a  promise.  Was 
it  an  omen  that  Ellsworth  and  his  Zouaves  were  to  take  their 
first  steps  towards  the  armed  service  of  their  country,  on 
board  a  vessel  of  that  line  so  sacrificed  to  national  meanness 
and  personal  accident?     Who  shall  say! 

Burtnett  Haviland,  from  whose  fortunes  the  course  of  this 
narration  has  seemed  to  be  too  long  separated,  shared,  as  a 

private  in  the  ranks  of  Company ■  in  all  the  fatigues  and 

all  the  honors  of  that  parting  ovation.  The  die  once  cast 
in  his  choice  of  the  regiment,  there  had  been  no  falling  back 
from  his  promise.  He  had  enrolled  his  name  at  the  Carriage- 
house  of  Hose  Xo.  —  the  day  following  the  conversation 
before  recorded  between  himself  and  Captain  Jack,  on  Broad- 
way, at  the  time  of  the  departure  of  the  Seventh.  He  had 
announced  the  new  course  of  his  destiny  to  his  wife,  the  same 
evening  on  which  the  resolution  was  formed,  and  thenceforth 
devoted  himself  to  such  preparations  as  seemed  to  be  neces- 
sary for  his  own  welfare  as  a  soldier  and  the  comfort  of  his 
wife  and  family  during  his  coming  absence. 

In  another  particular,  too,  he  had  been  steadfast,  prone  as 
we  all  are  to  vacillation  when  home  or  comfort  beckons  to  a 
change  of  purpose,  and  few  antitypes  as  there  maybe  at  the 
present  day  of  that  La  Tour  d'Auvergne  who  preferred  the 
title  of  "  First  Grenadier  of  France''  to  any  epauletled  com- 
mand that  could  be  tendered.  Captain  Jack,  proud  oi'  his 
recruit,  and  a  little  astonished  at  his  stubbornness  in  such  a 
rare  direction,  had  mentioned  him  to  Col.  Ellsworth,  and  at 
once  received  in  his  behalf  an  offer  of  a  Second  Lieutenancy. 
This  Haviland  had  declined,  as  he  had  before  done  the  three 


204:  THE       DAYS       OF      SHODDY. 

stripes*  of  t tie  Sergeant;  and  this  had  ended  the  matter  in 
that  particular  direction.  Bat  he  had  hern  obliged  to  I 
another  temptation  of  the  same  character,  coming  to  him 
from  a  source  altogether  unexpected  ;  and  here  he  had  found 
an  enemy  more  difficult  to  conquer — the  evident  wish  and 
anxiety  of  his  wife  that  he  should  be  '-something-  more  than 
a  common  soldier." 

The  offer  of  Mr.  Charles  Holt,  merchant,  to  continue  the 
salary  of  his  clerk  while  in  service  in  the  army,  and  to  look 
after  the  welfare  of  his  family,  has  not  been  forgotten  by  the 
reader,  nor  was  it  likely  that  it  should  be  forgotten  by  either 
of  the  parties  interested.  Though  with  a  little  delicaey  in- 
volved in  the  action,  on  the  very  day  when  he  signed  the  en- 
rolment, the  clerk  informed  his  employer  of  the  carrying  out 
of  his  intention  to  enlist ;  and  he  remarked  with  pleasure, 
that  the  merchant  seemed  to  have  no  objection  to  re-affirm  in 
cool  blood  a  promise  that  he  might  have  made  under  the  in- 
fluence of  sudden  excitement,  and  that  he  seemed  rather 
pleased  than  otherwise  to  have  the  opportunity  of  proving 
his  good  faith.  So  cordial  seemed  the  great  man  towards  a 
subordinate  with  whom  his  acquaintance  had  before  been  only 
the  formal  intercourse  of  employer  and  employee,  that  he  had 
even  offered,  unasked,  to  "  drop  in  and* spend  an  hour  at  his 
house  before  he  went  away."  The  force  of  the  courtesy  of 
wealth  towards  humble  worth  could  not  well  have  gone 
further;  and  the  clerk  felt  the  obligation  with  a  strength 
proportioned  to  the  straight-forward  honesty  of  his  own 
nature. 

Three  days  before  the  marching  of  the  Fire  Zouaves,  the 
merchant,  in  the  fulfilment  of  this  promise,  for  the  first  time 
set  foot  within  the  little  home  of  the  clerk  in  East  Forty- 
eighth  Street.  He  was  by  no  means  a  stranger  to  Mary 
Ilaviland,  as  she  had  many  times,  during  her  husband's  em- 
ployment by  Holt  &  Andrews,  had  occasion  to  call  for  him 
at  the  store,  at  the  close  of  business  hours,  and  when  some 
arrangement  had  been  made  for  an  evening  down-town  in 
each  other's  company.  An  introduction  between  the  mer- 
chant and  the  wife  of  his  clerk  had  followed  as  a  matter  of 
course,  one  evening  when  the  former  happened  to  put  him- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  205 

self  in  the  way  of  receiving  (not  to  say  forcing)  such  an 
indorsement  of  the  character  of  the  lady  who  visited  his  clerk 
at  the  store.  ]S*ot  much  conversation  had  followed,  then  or 
afterwards.  But  the  merchant,  if  he  had  nut  conversed  to 
any  great  extent  with  her,  hud  at  least  looked  at  the  hand- 
some wife  of  his  good-looking  clerk  (  \fide  the  past  observa- 
tions of  Tim  the  errand-boy,  on  that  subject.) 

Three  days  before  the  marching  of  the  {Zouaves,  as  has 
been  said,  the  merchant  paid  the  promised  visit  to  the  house 
and  family  of  the  clerk,  lie  found  the  wife  sewing,  the  hus- 
band reading  aloud  to  her,  little  Pet  playing  sleepily  on  the 
floor,  in  sad  need  of  being  put  to  bed,  and  Sarah  too  busy 
about  the  crockery-renovating  operations  which  follow  supper 
(he  caught  the  usual  clatter  of  dishes  from  that  young  lady, 
through  the  half-opened  door  between  the  two  rooms)  to  at- 
tend to  the  wants  of  the  drowsy  child.  He  found  a  very 
happy  home,  with  nothing  of  the  shadow  of  coming  disrup- 
tion seeming  to  loom  over  it.  If  he  experienced  at  that 
moment  any  of  the  sensations  which  Apollyon  Beelzebub, 
Esq.,  gentleman-at-leisure,  is  supposed  to  have  experienced 
on  the  first  day  when  he  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Eve  Adam  at 
her  neat  little  country  residence  on  the  Euphrates,  there  is  no 
warrant  for  recording  the  fact  in  this  connection.  He  was 
cordially  received,  though  with  a  very  little  of  that  empren- 
sement  which  the  proudest  of  us  little  people  cannot  avoid 
showing  in  the  presence  of  the  great.  But,  a  thorough  gen- 
tleman (at  least  in  the  outward  manner  and  wrhen  he  chose), 
the  merchant  did  not  seem  to  need  five  minutes  to  put  both 
host  and  hostess  at  their  ease;  and  he  had  not  been  ten 
minutes  in  the  room  when  Mary  Haviland  caught  herself 
saying  (of  course  not  aloud,  for  that  would  have  been  neither 
complimentary  to  her  husband  nor  his  guest)  : 

"What  a  very  pleasant  man  he  is!  So  different  from 
what  he  appeared  to  be,  down  at  his  place  of  business  ! 
I  declare  that  1  really  like  him  !" 

If  the  little  woman  did  not  say  so  much  in  words,  her  eyes 
showed  the  fact  that  she  was  pleased,  to  those  of  both  hus- 
band and  guest,  and  both  were  pleased  in  return.  The 
merchant   for  reasons  best   known  to  himself,  and   Bartnett 


20o  T  ]l  B      1)  A  Y  S      0  F      SDO  D  D  Y. 

Ilaviland  because  he  felt  how  good  and  kind  a  protictor 
heaven  might  really  have  raised  up  for  his  wife  and  child,  in 
the  event  that  his  parting  with  them,  so  soon  to  come,  should 
be  the  last. 

But  if  the  pretty  face  of  Mary  Ilaviland  smiled  with 
pleasure  when  the  merchant  had  for  a  few  minutes  exerted 
his  undeniable  powers  of  fascination,  it  broke  into  a  broad 
glow  of  delight  when  he  drew  from  his  Bide-pocket  and 
threw  down  On  the  table  before  her  husband,  a  Lieutenant's 
commission  in  the  very  regiment  in  which  she  knew  him  to 
stand  enrolled  as  a  private  !  People  have  no  right  to  be 
enthusiastic  and  demonstrative,  but  some  of  them  are  so,  and 
there  is  no  power  on  earth  that  can  change  their  natures  in 
that  regard.  Mary  Haviland  was  as  proud  of  her  husband 
as  any  woman  can  be  of  the  one  dearest  to  her  heart  without 
breaking  the  command  of  God  and  worshipping  the  creature 
instead  of  the  Creator.  She  knew  him  to  be  good,  she  be- 
lieved him  to  be  able,  and  she  thought  it  his  right  to  be  great. 
She  would  not  have  doubted  his  capacity  to  till  any  office  to 
which  the  will  of  the  people  might  have  elected  him,  even  to 
the  Chief  Magistracy  of  the  republic;  Could  her  own  hand 
have  lifted  him  to  the  highest  position,  the  task  would  have 
been  performed  as  the  mere  according  to  him  of  a  right,  and 
with  no  belief  that  he  could  fail  to  fill  such  a  place  with  full 
honor  and  high  public  approbation.  She  had  infinitely  more 
pride  in  him  than  he  had  in  himself,  and  was  always  disposed 
to  think  of  him  as  scarcely  having  his  place,  when  she  saw 
him  filling  any  subordinate  position.  All  this  without  think- 
ing for  a  moment  that  he  had  not  risen  fast  enough,  that  any 
fault  would  attach  to  him  if  he  held  a  much  humbler  position 
than  that  he  really  occupied,  or  that  he  would  not  be  quite 
her  equal  if  several  degrees  lower  in  the  scale  of  respectability 
and  influence.  Yet  his  being  higher  would  have  suited  her 
better,  not  for  her  sake  but  his  own.  She  had  bowed,  as  we 
have  seen,  to  patriotic  necessity  and  duty,  crushed  down 
every  repining,  and  determined  to  send  him  forth  to  battle 
with  the  remembrance  of  a  face  that  shed  sunshine  instead  of 
weeping  tears  upon  his  departure.  And  yet  she  had  not  by 
anv  means  crushed  down  an  idea  which  had  crept  into  her 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  207 

dear  little  head,  and  which  she  had  not  communicated  to  him 
simply  because  she  considered  its  fulfilment  impossible  and 
its  expression  likely  to  worry  him — that  he  ought  to  go  as  an 
officer  instead  of  a  private.  He  must  go — yes — that  was 
duty — the  country  needed  him  ;  but  could  he  not  do  as  good 
and  even  better  duty  to  the  country,  in  command  instead  of 
in  the  ranks  with  the  common  people  ?  (Mary  Haviland '8 
husband  was  not  one  of  the  "common  people" — to  her: 
Fiddler  Joe,  the  darkey  who  plays  for  half  the  ambiguous 
dances  iu  Water  Street,  has  a  poor  apology  for  a  wife  if  she 
does  not  rate  him  as  a  little  superior  to  the  average  of  his 
color — something  more  than  a  "common  nigger.")  But 
Mary  Haviland  had  not  expressed  this  one  idea  of  her  mind, 
simply  because  she  would  have  thought  it  worrying  for  no 
purpose.  Meanwhile,  as  the  best  of  husbands  do  not  tell  their 
wives  every  thought  that  creeps  into  their  minds,  or  the 
history  of  every  adventure  they  encounter,  Burtnett  Haviland 
had  said  nothing  to  his  wife  of  the  flattering  offers  made  him. 
He  had  not  done  this,  because  he  intended  to  carry  out  the 
resolution  he  had  formed — because  he  knew  the  pride  held  in 
him  by  his  wife,  which  would  lead  her  to  think  that  he  should 
have  accepted  one  of  the  oifers — and  because  he  knew  how 
much  more  difficult  it  would  be,  then,  to  adhere  to  his  deter- 
mination. 

Such  was  the  position  of  affairs  when  Charles  Holt,  mer- 
chant, laid  down  the  Lieutenant's  commission  on  the  little 
table,  somewhat  to  the  annoyance  of  Haviland,  who  saw  an- 
other struggle  before  him,— but,  oh,  how  much  to  the  delight 
of  the  proud  wife  !  We  have  already  recorded  the  proper 
condemnation  against  people  being  enthusiastic ;  but  Mary 
Haviland,  who  has  been  (so  far)  the  type  of  a  devoted  and 
good  little  wife,  could  no  more  have  resisted  the  impulse  which 
led  her,  her  face  all  aglow,  to  rush  up  and  grasp  the  hand  of 
the  benefactor  with  a  "Ah,  how  good  you  are,  Mr.  Holt  ! 
How  very  much  Ave  thank  you  I'1  than  she  could  have  resisted 
any  thing  else  that  seemed  to  be  unobjectionably  correct  and 
remarkably  pleasant. 

To  the  intense  surprise  of  the  wife,  a  shadow  of  vexation 
(one  of  very  few  that  she  had  ever  seen  there  during  four 


208  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

years  of  marriage)  crept  over  the  face  of  the  husband,  and  he 
did  not  take  up  the  paper  that  she  had  supposed  would  so 
delight  him,  as  he  said : 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Holt,  I  am  sure,  for  this 
great  kindness,  but  I  cannot  accept  it.  I  have  already  refused 
a  similar  offer  from  the  Colonel,  and  I  am  going  in  the  ranks." 

"Phewl"  almost  though  not  quite  whistled  the  merchant, 
in  spite  of  the  obligations  of  good  breeding. 

"What  !"  quite  said  Mary  Ilavilaud.  without  any  propen- 
sity to  whistle,  but  with  something  nearer  to  a  pout  on  her 
ripe  and  rosy  lips  than  was  in  the  habit  of  finding  a  lodg- 
ment in  that  pleasant  locality. 

"  Just  what  I  said,  my  dear,"  spoke  the  husband,  in  a  tone 
which  if  not  vexed  was  more  than  usually  decided.  "1  did 
not  tell  you  that  my  Captain  and  Col.  Ellsworth  offered  me 
a  Lieutenant's  commission,  but  they  did  bo,  and  I  refused  it." 

"And  why  did  you  do  so,  Burtej  ?"'  asfced  the  wife,  more 
in  curiosity  than  in  vexation,  now,  and  throwing  in  the  affec- 
tionate diminutive  without  thought  of  the  presence  of  a 
stranger. 

"I  had  my  own  reasons  for  it,  Mary,"  said  the  husband. 
"  Please  believe  that  they  were  satisfactory,  and  do  not  ask 
me  any  further." 

The  wife  obeyed.  Her  vexation  went  away  almost  as 
rapidly  as  it  had  come,  even  if  her  wonder  remained  ;  and  she 
said  no  more.  One  of  the  little  hopes  of  her  life,  however, 
born  but  the  instant  before,  had  already  been  extinguished. 
That  was  not  much  matter — let  it  pass  ! 

"And  am  I  to  understand  that  you  mean  to  adhere  to  your 
determination,  and  to  go  in  the  ranks  when  a  commission  is 
offered  you  without  cost  to  yourself,  Mr.  Haviiaud  ?"  asked 
the  merchant. 

"  Unalterably,  unless "  and  here  he  paused. 

"Unless  what — may  I  ask?"  inquired  the  merchant,  after 
the  pause  of  an  instant. 

"Unless — no — I  will  not  ask  the  question."  Had  he  done 
so,  the  inquiry  would  have  been  whether  the  merchant  con- 
sidered the  acceptance  of  the  commission  a  matter  of  pecu- 


THE      DATS      OF      SHODDY.  209 

niary  duty,  as  it  would  remove  something  of  bis  own  cost  of 
paying  a  salary  during  his  absence. 

11 1  am  glad  you  do  not,  for  I  think  that  I  understand  you," 
said  the  merchant.  "I  do  not  like  to  be  misunderstood." 
The  tone,  now,  the  least  trifle  lofty.  "But  once  more — will 
you  not  accept  this  commission  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  clerk.  "  With  a  thousand  thanks  for 
the  trouble  you  have  taken,  and  for  all  your  kindness — no  !" 

"  I  am  sorry  !"  said  the  merchant.  To  do  him  justice,  he 
looked  sorry.  To  do  him  still  further  justice,  he  was  sorry. 
He  was  pleased  that  Burtnett  Haviland  was  going  away  to 
the  war:  he  would  have  been  infinitely  better  pleased  had  he 
gone  away  as  an  officer.  Why  ?  Was  this  man  so  sympa- 
thetic that  the  position  of  his  clerk  could  interest  him  in  that 
manner  ?  Scarcely — in  fact,  not  at  all.  After  what  has  been 
seen  of  Charles  Holt  in  his  domestic  relations,  it  would  be 
idle  to  attempt  further  mystification,  if  any  has  indeed  been 
carried  on,  as  to  his  plans  and  purposes.  He  was  sending 
Burtnett  Haviland  a.u-ay,  so  far  as  his  own  action  could  in- 
fluence that  of  the  clerk,  because  he  wished  a  clear  field  for 
the  attempted  dishonor  of  his  handsome  wife.  There  ! — the 
word  is  out, — a  plain,  bold,  bad,  ugly  word,  but  one  that  will 
not  be  recalled.  Charles  Holt's  "shoddy"  propensity  ran 
somewhat  more  deeply  than  the  same  vein  in  many  others, 
but  not  deeper,  as  there  is  painful  reason  to  know,  than  in  at 
least  some  others  of  his  near  neighbors  at  that  period.  With 
the  event  of  his  experiment,  so  far  eminently  successful,  we 
have  at  present  nothing  to  do.  The  same  pen  which  in- 
formed us  how  often  the  "  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  and  men 
gang  agley,"  also  advised  us  of  "the  rough  wind  blawin'  the 
heather  bloom,"  and  the  certainty  that,  once  swept  away, 
there  was  no  power  on  earth  to  restore  it.  The  combat 
between  vice  and  virtue  is  as  old  as  the  history  of  man  ;  and 
if  the  one  has  conquered  at  times,  to  the  joy  of  the  angels, 
has  not  the  other  quite  as  often,  making  harsh  laughter  in 
those  sombre  realms  where  the  lost  welcome  each  other  ?  Xo 
one  has  a  right  to  despair  under  temptation  ;  but  who  shall 
presume  upon  it,  any  more  than  upon  human  life,  the  continu- 
ance of  reason  or  of  happiness  ?  Vice  is  determined — virtue 
J. J 


210  THE      DAYS      OF      SHOPPY. 

is  weak God   help  the  best  of  us  when  under  strong  and 

overweening  temptation,  and  recover  us,  if  lie  will,  even  when 

we  have  fallen  ! 

But  even  if  this  motive  be  ascribed  to  the  merchant,  why 
Should  he  have  exhibited  any  anxiety  to  raise  the  husband 
from  the  ranks  to  the  post  of  an  officer  ?  Why  benefit  a  man 
whom  he  was  planning  to  injure  in  the  most  deadly  manner  ? 
Why  make  a  man  who  was  possibly  to  become,  for  the  very 
best  of  reasons,  his  mortal  enemy,  more  powerful  than  he 
would  be  of  his  own  choice  ?  Strange  and  yet  natural  ques- 
tions, that  cannot  be  left  without  answer.  Kings  used  some- 
times to  ennoble  (in  title)  the  husbands  of  wives  whom  they 
dishonored,  or  those  wives  themselves,  in  order  to  make  the 
game  nobler  for  the  royal  chase  ;  and  contemporary  records 
make  it  almost  certain  that  A 1  fieri,  the  Italian  poet,  and  the 
Countess  of  Albany — wife  of  one  of  the  last  of  the  Stuarts, 
and  so  by  claim  "  Queen  of  England," — would  have  married 
instead  of  living  illicitly  together  after  the  death  of  the  Count 
of  Albany,  but  that  the  Countess  thought  it  nobler  to  have 
the  first  poet  of  the  time  at  her  beck  and  call  as  a  lover,  than 
bound  to  her  as  a  "husband,  and  Alfieri  himself  found  corres- 
ponding pride  in  being  able  to  think  that  he  had  a  Queen  for 
a  mistress  !  But  Charles  Holt  was  not  likely  to  be  so  daintily 
exclusive  that  he  could  not  approach  the  wife  of  a  "  common 
soldier,"  and  must,  therefore,  make  him  an  officer  ;  and  the 
solution  of  his  anxiety  must  be  found  in  the -added  probabili- 
ties he  could  supply,  for  keeping  him  out  of  the  way. 

It  is  just  possible  that  the  merchant,  quick  at  figures  and 
not  yet  entirely  oblivious  of  the  "  calculus  of  probabilities" 
mastered  through  such  tribulation  in  educational  days,  had 
been  studying  over  army  reports  in  the  histories  of  great 
wars,  and  making  the  discovery  that  of  a  given  number  of 
persons  who  go  into  battle,  ten  or  perhaps  twenty  common 
soldiers  come  out  unharmed,  to  one  wearing  the  dangerous 
distinctions  of  the  commissioned  officer.  It  is  just  possible 
that  he  had  some  premonition  how  assiduously  those  wild 
South-western  marksmen  would  devote  themselves  to  the 
shooting  of  Union  officers,  as  they  certainly  have  done  in 
every  coutest  from  Bull  Run  to  Gettysburg  ;    and  that  he 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  211 

had  heard  something  of  that  "setting  in  the  fore-front  of  the 
battle"  which,  for  more  than  twenty-five  hundred  years,  has 
been  considered  an  effectual  way  of  disposing  of  a  "trouble- 
some customer."  We  say  these  things  are  just  possible  ;  and 
if  it  should  happen  that  they  were  really  taken  into  serious 
consideration,  why  might  not  Mr.  Charles  Holt's  investment, 
in  trouble  and  perhaps  in  money,  to  procure  Burtnett  Havi- 
laud  a  commission,  have  been  found  quite  as  profitable  as 
any  of  his  transactions  in  rotten  satinets,  if  he  could  only 
have  conquered  that  stubborn  will  of  his  clerk  and  decorated 
him  with  a  gilt  wreath  on  his  cap,  and  a  pair  of  shoulder- 
straps  ? 

Half  an  hour  after  this  peremptory  refusal  of  the  commis- 
sion on  the  part  of  Haviland,  the  merchant  left  the  little  house 
on  East  Forty -eighth  Street,  his  pulses  more  inflamed  than 
they  had  before  been  by  the  beauty  of  Mary  Haviland,  his 
ideas  of  the  wisdom  of  her  husband  not  materially  enhanced, 
and  one  part  of  his  musings  taking  shape  in  the  following 
muttered  words  (which  neither  the  writer  nor  the  reader  is 
expected  to  understand)  : 

"  Two  families  in  that  house  !  Confound  it !  I  wish  peo- 
ple would  live  in  houses  by  themselves,  and  not  huddle  up  in. 
this  kind  of  second-hand  gentility." 

He  had  not  left  the  house  live  minutes  when  the  shadow 
passed  away  from  the  faces  of  both  husband  and  wife  and  the 
usual  sunshine  returned.  The  unfortunate  commission  had 
gone  away  again  in  the  pocket  of  the  merchant,  the  die  was 
cast  that  it  was  not  to  be  accepted,  and  neither  Mary  Havi- 
land nor  her  husband  spoke  further  on  the  subject,  except  that 
the  wife,  summing  up  her  impressions  gathered  of  the  mer- 
chant during  the  whole  visit,  and  speaking  with  that  sweet 
frankness  which  formed  a  part  of  her  character,  said  : 

"  I  do  believe  that  Mr.  Holt  is  an  excellent  man,  and  I  am 
sure  that  1  like  him  very  much — very  much  indeed  !" 

The  days  intervening  between  that  time  and  the  departure 
of  the  husband  changed  to  hours,  and  even  those  hour.-  be- 
came few  The  parting  was  near  at  hand.  Burtnett  Havi- 
land knew,  then,  as  lie  had  never  known  before,  what  it  was 
to  exile  himself  from  all  that  had  so   long  been  the  bh 


212  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

of  bis  life.  He  did  not  often  shed  tears,  though  it  was  not 
seldom  that  he  felt  them  ;  and  on  that  Monday  morning 
when  the  last  pang  was  to  be  endured  and  he  knew  that  the 
next  sun  would  rise  upon  a  wide  separation,  it  is  no  reproach 
to  his  manliness  to  say  that  he  choked  a  little  as  he  attempted 
to  swallow  the  dainty  breakfast  that  Mary  had  provided 
with  her  own  hands  as  the  last.  Partings  are  hard,  and 
cruel,  and  difficult,  precisely  in  proportion  as  the  hearts  that 
are  to  be  severed  have  been  closely  woven  together  and  the 
companionship  has  been  long  and  uninterrupted.  And 
soldiers  who  have  spirit  to  dare,  have  yet  hearts  to  suffer. 
Legendary  history  tells  us  much  of  how  Cincinnatus  left  his 
plough  still  standing  in  the  furrow,  with  the  oxen  yoked  to 
it,  and  hurried  away  to  use  sword  instead  of  ploughshare, 
when  Rome  called  him  once  more  to  defend  her  against  the 
victorious  slaughterers  of  Alinucius.  But  it  tells  us  nothing 
of  the  hasty  call  he  may  have  made  at  his  little  homestead 
at  Janiculum,  beyond  the  Tiber,  that  lay  directly  on  his  road 
to  the  scene  of  the  great  conflict,  and  told  Racilia  to  send  a 
slave  and  have  the  oxen  unyoked,  and  held  her  for  one 
moment  to  his  heart,  her  dark  locks  blended  with  his  own 
long  fair  hair,  and  patted  the  heads  of  his  younger  children, 
and  almost  forgotten  Rome  and  her  needs  as  he  wondered 
whether  he  should  fall,  this  time,  beneath  the  swords  of  the 
Volscians,  or  gain  such  power  and  glory  in  victory  as  would 
enable  him  to  fulfil  the  one  long  wish  of  his  heart  and  bring 
back  to  Rome  the  banished  Kreso.  If  he  had  no  thought  for 
this,  he  may  have  been  an  abler  general,  but  he  must  have 
been  a  worse  husband  and  father,  than  we  are  prone  to  be- 
lieve him. 

Then  came  the  parting  itself.  No  pressure  so  sadly  sacred, 
of  the  husband's  arms  around  the  pliant  form  of  the  wife,  had 
ever  before  taken  place,  even  in  the  little  room  so  conse- 
crated to  their  married  joys  and  confidences,  as  that  which 
encircled  it  for  the  last  time  that  Monday  morning.  Neyerj 
he  thought,  had  the  rounded  arms  of  the  wife  been  so  cling- 
in  gly  fond  in  their  pressure — a  bond  of  the  rarest  and  ten- 
derest  human  flesh,  that  a  rude  grasp  could  almost  sever  like 
a  wisp  of  straw,  and  yet  a  bond  more  difficult  to  break  than 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODPY.  213 

*ny  that  over  cnei.vled  a  living  form,  whwher  for  good  or 
ev.I.     Never,  he  thought,  had  she  been  so  truly  the  perfect 
woman,  m  the  warmth  of  her  caresses,  the  lore-light  in  her 
eyes  the  glow,  on  cheek  and  lip,  as  then,  when  he  was  to 
ose  her  for  so  long-perhaps  forever  !     Had  all  the  powers 
that  preside  over  destiny  conspired  to  place  within  his  grasp 
at  thai  moment,  all  that  the  heart  could  desire,  with  the . very 
object  ol  making  the  loneliness  that  should  follow  more  in- 
tense and   agonizing,  they  could  not  have  inspired  a  manner 
at  parting  more  maddeningly  conducive  to  that  end      Per- 
fect,,,,, r.self-no  !  not  perfection.    What,  then,  was  wanting  ? 

Ha^r  *T'?nS  t^  the  martyr  reso,ution  that  M«y 
Hawland  made,  that  she  would  crush  down  within  her  son! 

IndsoTkeh-r/0  C°me  t0  he-  "  thC  'aSt  ***  °f  their  »««» 

ha      I  e  •       n  °Ve,;master,nS  at  th*  moment  of  separation 

-that  she  would  speak  no  more  sad  or  foreboding  words- 

tne.her  before  nor  when  the  moment  for  paring  came 
should  tliere  be  a  tear  on  hel,  cbeek  or  a  sab    P        B       ^ 

that  she  would  not  dishearten  but  inspirit  "her  soldier"  and 

Sh  "bo  nT^  h!s  ,ast  glimpse  of  her  lla,oed  -*«  a - 

^  h  ch  should  be  an  omen  for  his  future.     When  he  was  gone 

-then-what  the  lonely  walls  of  her  room,  her  pillow  and 

he  mb  of  her  child  might  know-that  was   ometMng  which 

sou       S  eab  r.f""  rd ''  ,aybetWeen   G°d  and  *«  «™ 
soul      Such  had  been  her  resolution,  from  the  morning  when 

she   know  that  the  die  was  cast,  when   the  sad  picture  o? 

m   mJd  re,Came  Upt°  the  Patri0t  as  Pictures  «  Ger- 
mane and  Calvary  sometimes  come  up  to  inspirit  the  shrink- 

mg  Chnsnan  with  the  memory  of  how  much  torse  trials  and 

snuggles  than  his  own  were  onee  endured  by  the  Man  of 

her'toT      V.  DiUi  beeU  h6r  reS°,Uti0D-     What  Jt  W  cost 
her  to  keep  ,t,  heaven  only  knew,  but  she  had  kept  it  indeed 

Not  one  tear  or  sign  of  hopeless  regret-not  one  word  to 

*    hat  she  would  have  been  happier  had  he  remained 

Not  one  tear  or  one  word  of  regret,  amid  all  the  expressions 

and  tl    of  of  fondnesS)  on  that  ffi     ofp;ear  °nr 

And  w.l    ,   be  believed  that  Burtnett  Haviland,  who  had  £ 

ountrv  °  ,mplTUP0n  her  the  du*  which  she  ™°*  to  the 
eountty  to  gtve  htm  up  without  a  murmur,  even  as  he  owed 


214  THE      DAYS      OF      S  IT  O  P  D  Y . 

a  corresponding  duty  to  meet  all  its  requirements  with  manly 
readiness — that  Burtnett  Haviland,  dow  and  in  the  un- 
whispered  thoughts  of  his  own  heart,  would  have  preferred 
to  hear  some  word  of  imploration  to  stay,  that  he  must  en- 
tirely disregard,  and  to  see  some  tear  of  regret  which  he 
must  leave  undried  upon  the  cheek  ! 

These  men  are  so  unreasonable — the  best  and  most  thought- 
ful of  them  !  "  Do  not  weep  for  me  !"  says  the  dying 
husband.  "  I  will  not  shed  a  tear  for  you  !,?  is  the  response 
of  the  afflicted  wife,  who  in  the  reply  is  only  showing  her 
implicit  obedience,  and  yet  the  dying  husband  grows  almost 
angry  enough  at  it  to  forsake  his  intention  of  dying,  alto- 
gether. "  Console  yourself,  my  dear  !  Though  I  shall  be 
gone,  the  world  need  not  be  a  blank  to  you.  Find  some 
other  who  will  love  and  treasure  you,  and  be  happy  !"  says 
another  in  similar  circumstances,  with  much  kind  earnest  in 
his  voice.  "  I  have  been  thinking  that  I  need  not  live  alone, 
and  I  shall  look  for  some  one  to  fill  your  place,  as  soon  as 
possible  after  you  are  gone  !'  replies  this  obedient  wife,  and 
though  she,  too,  is  only  expressing  her  intention  to  obey  what 
has  been  given  as  a  solemn  injunction,  the  shock  to  the  hus- 
band's amor  propre  is  so  great  that  he  flounces  out  of  the 
dying  bed,  upsets  the  stand  with  all  its  doctor's  phials,  raves 
round  the  room,  and  recovers  in  spite  of  fate  on  purpose  to 
disappoint  the  jade  who  dared  to  take  him  at  his  word.  No 
doubt  Collatinus,  when  he  left  Lucrece  to  join  the  camp  of 
the  King,  said  to  her :  "  Make  yourself  comfortable,  my 
dear  !  Don't  work  too  hard  !  Laugh,  sing  and  be  as  happy 
as  possible  while  I  am  away."  And  yet  the  boast  of  Col- 
latinus to  the  sons  of  Tarquin  was,  that  while  others  might 
probably  be  gadding  about  and  making  themselves  merry, 
his  wife  would  be  found  eschewing  all  merriment  during  his 
absence  and  soberly  intent  on  her  domestic  duties  !  Very 
unreasonable,  of  course,  and  yet  very  like  what  human 
nature  has  been  doing  every  day  since  the  flood.  It  is  not 
best  even  to  accept  any  man's  spoken  estimate  of  himself,  in 
the  ordinary  relations  of  life.  When  he  says  :  "  Oh,  I  am  a 
poor  miserable  devil  1"  it  is  not  prudent  to  address  him  as 
such  in  the  next  conversation  ;  and  when  a  lady  murmurs 


THE       DAYS      OK      S  H  O  D  D  Y.  215 

confidentially  :  "How  I  have  faded  !     My  eyes  have  lost  all 

their  sparkle,  and — only  think  of  it ! — I  have  no  complexion 
left  at  all  !" — it  is  an  enemy  for  life  that  he  bargains  for  who 
accepts  the  conclusion  or  even  does  not  flatly  contradict  it. 

Had  Mary  llaviland  been  wise,  as  she  was  good,  loving 
and  patriotic,  she  would  at  least  have  "  turned  on  the 
water''  (to  use  another  gross  but  very  expressive  modern 
vulgarism)  and  uttered  some  word  of  wild  regret,  at  the  last 
moment.  She  .was  not  wise — she  was  only  brave  and 
determined  ;  and  the  result  was  to  some  extent  disastrous — 
more  disastrous,  afterwards,  than  the  most  lugubrious 
prophet  could  then  have  imagined. 

But  so  they  parted,  with  one  convulsive  clasp  6f  Pet  and 
one  long  embrace  of  the  wife,  on  the  part  of  the  husband, 
on  the  little  stoop — with  Sarah  Sanderson,  one  of  the  break- 
fast-dishes  in  hand,  looking  curiously  down  the  stairs  on  the 
group  at  the  door — with  the  husband's  "  God  bless  you,  little 
woman!"  and  the  wife's  "Do  take  care  of  yourself, 
Burtey!"  Then,  as  she  stood  on  the  stoop,  with  Pet  clinging 
at  her  side,  and  Sarah,  dish  still  in  hand,  come  down  to  the 
door  and  framed  in  it,  she  saw  his  erect  figure,  in  its  neat 
gray  Zouave  uniform,  pass  out  to  the  Avenue  and  disappear 
into  a  down-town  car.  He  was  gone  :  she  was  alone. 
Through  what  was  each  to  pass,  and  how  changed  was  life 
to  be  for  both,  long  before  the  eyes  of  each  that  looked  their 
last  should  fall  again  upon  the  other  ! 

Only  the  recording  angels  and  the  heart  of  man  that  had 
been  tried  in  the  same  furnace  of  loneliness  and  suffering  could 
see  what  occurred  but  a  few  moments  after,  when  the  wife, 
lying  on  her  bed  in  an  agony  of  tears,  with  poor  little  Pet 
weeping  too  and  childishly  trying  to  comfort  her,  buried  her 
flushed  face  in  the  pillow  and  sobbed  out  :  "  Oh,  Burtey  ! 
Burtey  !  How  could  I  let  you  go  ?  When  shall  I  see  you 
again  ?  Oh,  Burtey  !  Burtey  !"  And  when  Sarah  Sanderson, 
hearing  the  sobs  and  broken  words  that  came  from  the  little 
chamber,  stood  outside  with  her  own  eyes  full  of  tears  but 
her  pretty  lips  compressed  and  her  face  the  very  embodiment 
of   wronged    and   vindictive   feeling,    and   shook   her   small 


216  THE      DAYS      OF      S  II  <  >  D  D  Y. 

clenched  fist  at  something  that  seemed  to  be  within  the  »amn 
chamber  as  the  wife  and  mother. 

These  latter  had  been  the  events  of  the  morning.  All  the 
parade,  the  presentations  and  the  glorifications  had  since  oc- 
curred ;  and  late  in  the  afternoon  Haviland,  a  private  in  the 

rank.-  of  Company of  the  Fire  Zouaves,  marched  down 

Canal  Street  with  the  rest  of  his  regiment,  towards  the 
Baltic,  as  was  more  or  less  clearly  said  before  this  recapitula- 
tion of  previous  events. 

The  scene  was  a  magnificent  one,  and  one  long  to  be  re- 
membered. April  was  changing  into  May,  and  every  breath 
seemed  such  perfection  that  merely  to  live  was  a  luxury. 
iNo  brighter  or  more  glorious  sun  ever  shone,  than  that 
which  had  all  day  kissed  the  uniforms  and  flashed  upon  the 
arms  and  banners  of  the  Zouaves.  Nature,  at  least,  was 
offering  them  no  unfavorable  omens.  And  the  spectacle  at 
the  foot  of  Canal  Street  was  if  possible  finer  and  more  im- 
posing than  any  thing  which  had  preceded  it  in  the  pageantry 
of  the  day.  The  noble  steamer  lay  moored  at  her  wharf 
trembling  with  the  internal  fires  that  were  in  a  few  moments 
to  be  her  irresistible  motive  power.  Flags  floated  from  her 
mast  heads,  and  from  bow  and  stern  and  the  bridge  between 
her  wheel  houses.  Around  her,  stretching  away  as  far  as 
the  eye  could  reach,  were  vessels  of  every  class  and  character, 
all  radiant  with  bunting  of  such  glaring  colors  that  a  rain- 
bow seemed  to  have  fallen  and  scattered  itself  in  a  thousand 
pieces  on  every  hand;  but  amid  them  all  the  old  stripes-and- 
stars  everywhere  prominent,  as  is  an  undertone  sometimes  in 
music  when  the  variations  flutter  hither  and  thither  and  ob- 
scure but  never  hide  the  theme.  Out  in  the  river  beyond  a 
hundred  steamboats  were  gliding,  all  radiant,  too,  with  colors, 
and  among  them  darted  skiffs  and  wherries,  seeming  like 
greater  and  less  attendant  spirits  on  the  great  event  of  the 
i  v.  But  the  splendid  spectacle  of  even  all  these  inanimate 
objects  was  dwarfed  by  the  mass  of  humanity  grouped  in  the 
neighborhood  and  affording  constant  change  in  motion  and 
position.  The  decks,  masts  and  shrouds  of  every  vessel  com- 
manding a  view  of  the  embarkation,  the  roofs  and  windows 
of  every  house  supplying  a  glimpse  of  the  arrival  of  the  regi- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  217 

incut,  were  filled  so  densely  with  human  beings,  of  both  sexes 
and  all  ages,  that  il  seemed  impossible  to  escape  the  crushing 
down  of  some  building,  or  the  slipping  off  of  some  clinging 
mass  of  humanity  into  the  river.  The  space  on  the  wharves 
reserved  by  the  police  for  the  soldiers,  was  kept  with  the 
usual  difficulty ;  and  all  was  life,  bustle,  pleasant  confusion 
and  happy  expectation.  Inconveniences  there  were,  of  course, 
and  they  were  materially  added  to  by  the  presence  at  the 
wharf  of  a  large  amount  of  quartermasters'  and  commissaries' 
stores  awaiting  transportation — barrels,  bales  and  heavy 
boxes,  filling  half  the  space  within  the  enclosure,  and  seri- 
ously narrowing  the  room  allotted  to  the  soldiers.  But  if  the 
latter  saw  them,  they  thought,  no  doubt,  more  of  the  certainty 
of  food  and  other  necessaries  which  those  packages  promised, 
than  of  the  temporary  inconvenience  caused  by  their  presence. 

Some  delay  had  occurred  in  the  preparations  for  imme- 
diately embarking  the  regiment,  (did  any  man  ever  hear  of  a 
regiment  that  embarked  at  the  time  first  specified,  any  more 
than  of  a  procession  that  moved  until  all  the  spectators  along 
the  line  had  been  wearied  out  by  waiting  ?)  and  the  Zouaves 
stood  at  ease  and  partially  broke  ranks  for  a  time,  half  an 
hour  after  they  had  reached  the  wharf.  Some  of  the  soldiers 
took  the  opportunity  of  exchanging  j^et  a  few  more  "  last 
words"  with  wives  or  sweet-hearts  who  had  followed  them 
through  the  crowd  (as  the  wife  of  Burtnett  Haviland,  with 
better  judgment,  had  not;  for  of  all  places  for  a  last  parting, 
in  the  midst  of  a  mixed  and  miscellaneous  crowd  is  the  least 
dignified)  ;  and  still  others  leaned  on  their  rifles  and  chatted 
with  friends  who  pressed  up  to  urge  or  promise  the  sending 
of  letters  during  absence. 

A   part  of  the   first  files   of  Company stood  at  that 

moment  close  beside  one  of  the  piles  of  quartermasters'  stores 
before  noticed.  Among  those  packages  of  goods  were  some 
heavy  boxes,  one  piled  on  the  top  of  another  to  the  height, 
possibly,  of  a  man's  head.  Immediately  beside  the  spot 
where  Haviland  was  standing,  in  conversation  with  some  of 
his  old  acquaintances  come  down  to  "  see  him  off,"  one  heavy 
case  of  goods  lay  on  the  top  of  another,  a  little  carelessly 
placed  and  overhanging  the  lower  one,  so  that  no  great  effort 


213  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

would  bo  necessary  to  topple  it  over  on  the  feet  and  lower 
limbs  of  a  person  standing  in  front.  Suddenly,  while  in  the 
midst  of  bis  conversation,  but  standing  nearer  to  the  boxes 
than  any  of  the  others  and  almost  alone,  the  upper  box,  evi- 
dently propelled  by  a  sudden  force  from  behind,  toppled  over 
and  made  a  rapid  descent  for  Haviland's  feet.  Had  it  struck 
him  fairly,  as  there  seemed  a  probability  of  its  doing,  the 
career  of  the  young  soldier  would  have  been  ended,  in  that 
capacity,  before  begun,  for  the  box  had  weight  enough  to 
have  broken  a  leg  or  crushed  a  foot  to  jelly.  Haviland  saw 
the  fall  just  in  time  to  spring  back  and  escape  the  worst,  and 
some  of  the  others  partially  caught  the  box  as  it  descended, 
so  that  the  only  effect  was  that  it  struck  him  somewhat 
severely  on  one  of  the  legs,  crippling  him  a  little  and  prom- 
ising a  stiff  limb  for  days. 

It  is  a  very  natural  impulse,  when  something  inanimate 
tumbles  down  upon  an}'  of  us,  to  endeavor  to  discover  what 
has  been  the  moving  power ;  and  Haviland,  even  in  the 
midst  of  his  internal  execrations  and  outward  rubbings,  looked 
hastily  over  the  fallen  box  to  see  what  lay  behind  it.  A 
policeman,  who  had  happened  to  be  very  near  and  see  the 
operation,  had  his  hand  upon  the  collar  of  a  nondescript 
object  in  that  direction  ;  and  one  of  the  Zouaves,  with  both  his 
hands  on  the  other  side  of  the  collar,  seemed  about  to  inflict 
summary  vengeance  upon  it,  Haviland  was  obliged  to  look 
twice  before  he  recognized  little  Tim,  the  errand-boy,  squint- 
ing if  possible  more  terribly  than  ever,  half  crying,  and  dis- 
figured by  such  a  tall,  shiny  second-hand  hat,  evidently  just 
out  of  one  of  the  slop-shops  of  Chatham  Street,  and  newly 
assumed  in  honor  of  the  great  occasion,  that  a  want  of  re- 
cognition was  easily  excusable.  The  policeman  was  about 
dragging  him  off:  the  Zouave  felt  that  he  should  be  first 
kicked  and  cuffed. 

"  Come  along  !  I  know  you  of  old  !"  said  the  policeman, 
who  probably  had  never  before  set  eyes  on  him  since  the  day 
when  he  was  himself  first  elevated  to  the  dignity  of  blue  cloth 
and  locust. 

"  Let  me  have  him  !  I'll  'tend  to  him  I"  said  the  Zouave, 
who  had  belonged  to  a  fire  company  very  much  in  the  habit 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  219 

of  settling   their   own  little  disputes  without  appealing  to 
tedious  and  expensive  legal  proceedings. 

"I  haint  been  a-doin'  nothin' !"  said  poor  Tim,  thus  held 
between  the  two  grips. 

"Didn't  you  push  over  that  box,  say?"  said  the  Zouave. 
"  Look-a-here,  you  can't  lie  out  of  that,  you  know  !  I 
seen  ye  !" 

'•  So  did  I,"  said  the  policeman.  "  Let  him  go — I'll  attend 
to  him." 

"  Stop  !"  said  Burtnett  Haviland,  recognizing  the  errand- 
boy,  and  wondering  what  could  have  induced  such  an  attempt 
at  injuring  him  by  one  whom  he  had  before  thought  warmly 
attached  to  him.  "  Is  that  you,  Tim  ?  You  didn't  throw 
that  box  over  on  me,  did  you  ?" 

"Maybe  I  shoved  it  over,  leanin'  agin  it,"  answered  the 
boy,  after  the  pause  of  a  moment.  There  was  something  in 
the  pause,  and  in  the  whole  manner  of  the  boy,  which  satis- 
fied Haviland  that  he  had  indeed  pushed  over  the  box,  and 
done  it  intentionally.  But  why  ?  That  was  the  mystery, 
and  one  that  there  was  not  time  just  then  to  inquire  into. 
At  all  events,  he  did  not  wish  to  have  poor  Tim  go  to  the 
station-house,  when  he  could  not  be  near  to  keep  him  out  of 
serious  trouble  ;  and  he  said  to  the  officer  and  to  his  own 
demonstrative  comrade  : 

"  Let  the  boy  go.  I  know  him  :  he  belongs  in  our  store, 
and  there  must  be  some  mistake  about  it.  He  would  not  try 
to  hurt  me !" 

"  Xo,  Mr.  Hevlin,  I  wouldn't !  Boo  !  hoo  !  hoo  !"  cried 
poor  Tim,  now  fairly  broken  clown  between  thanks  for  the 
kindness  and  fear  lest  he  might  be  lugged  off  after  all. 

The  Zouave  had  by  this  time  released  his  hold  ;  the  police- 
man, who  did  not  wish  to  lose  his  sight  of  the  embarkation 
by  going  away  to  the  station-house,  also  released  him,  with 
the  injunction  : 

"  Now  get  out  of  this,  you  young  scamp,  and  home  with 
you  as  fast  as  your  legs  can  carry  you  !     If  I  catch  you  here  . 
again,  I'll  put  you  where  the  dogs  won't  bite  you  !" 

^  "  Good-bye,  Mr.  Hevlin  !"  cried  the  boy,  his  knuckles  in 
his  eyes,  and  preparing  to  heed  the  admonition 


220  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

"  (Jjood-bye,  Tim  !  Go  homo,  before  y<»u  get  into  any  more 
trouble  !"  answered  Haviland,  and  the  boy  scudded  away, 
looking  back  at  him,  when  at  some  distance,  with  a  concen- 
trated squint  which  seemed  to  comprehend  all  things  ou 
earth  and  in  the  air,  and  then  disappearing  in  the  crowd. 
Haviland  rubbed  his  damaged  leg  a  little  more,  wondered  a 
little  more  whether  all  parties  had  been  mistaken  or  whether 
the  boy  had  gone  crazy,  and  then  dismissed  the  matter  in  the 
excitement  of  the  embarkation.  A  few  moments  after,  the 
ranks  were  formed,  the  Zouaves  marched  on  board  the  Baltic, 
and  vet  another  speech  was  administered  to  them  by  that 
Kentucky  statesman  with  the  Roman  name  who  had  no 
become  a  Major  General  without  command  and  a  foreign 
minister  needing  appointment  to  the  same  post  twice  within 
a  year.  The  Zouaves  were  by  that  time  so  weary  of  march- 
ing and  speech-making,  that  they  cared  very  little  whether 
they  were  being  addressed  by  that  speaker,  who  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  them,  their  natures  or  wishes,  or  by  "Brother 
Corbitt,"*  who  knew  them  from  fire-cap  to  boot-sole.  Xot 
long  after,  they  were  passing  down  the  Bay  and  out  to  sea, 
on  their  way  to  Annapolis,  and  the  pageant  of  the  departure 
of  the  First  Fire  Zouaves  had  faded  from  the  eyes  if  not  from 
the  memory  of  Xew  Yorkers. 

Burtnett  Haviland  had  of  course  left  the  address  at  which 
letters  would  be  expected  to  reach  him  most  readily,  at  the 
store,  for  the  benefit  of  any  of  his  brother-clerks  who  might 
wish  to  keep  up  the  old  friendship  by  "dropping  him  a  line." 
This  had  been  posted  on  a  slip  of  paper  beside  the  stairway, 
where  all  could  see  it — even  those  whose  eyes  had  some  obli- 
quity in  their  direction.  Mr.  West,  who  posted  it,  had  little 
thought  who  would  be  the  first  to  profit  by  that  little  but 
necessary  item  of  information.  Late  into  the  night  which 
followed  the  departure  of  the  Zouaves,  hour  after  hour  over 
a  greasy  pine  table  in  the  garret  of  a  miserable  old  house  on 
the  East  side  of  the  town,  with  a  sputtering  candle  so  near 
his  nose  that  there  was  constant  danger  of  burning  that  use- 

*  Rev.  William  P.  Corbitt,  the  popular  Methodist  divine,  for  a  long  time  a 
great  favorite  with  the  New  York  firemen. 


THE      PAYS      OF      S  II  0  D  D  Y.  221 

ful  member  of  the  face  or  setting  fire  to  the  red  scrubbing- 

brush  above  it, — with  his  eyes  rolling  horribly,  his  tongue 
stuck  out  of  his  mouth  to  the  full  extent  of  that  appendage, 
and  all  the  indications  of  the  severest  and  most  earnest  labor, 
--  sat  Tim,  the  errand-boy,  with  a  Stubby  and  Spattering  pen, 
thick  ink  and  a  villainously  greasy  whole  sheet  of  foolscap — 
writing  a  letter.  Poor  Tim  ! — it  was  undoubtedly  the  first 
letter,  worthy  of  the  full  magnificence  of  that  name,  that  he 
had  ever  written  ;  and  though  the  Thirteenth  Labor  of  Her- 
cules may  have  taxed  the  full  powers  of  that  mythical  hero, 
the  effort  was  a  feeble  one  compared  to  the  struggles  of  the 
errand-boy,  trying  to  enrol  himself  in  the  list  of  "  war  cor- 
respondents," to  justify  himself  in  the  eyes  of  his  friend,  and 
to  subserve  the  cause  of  virtue  generally.  Those  over- 
watching  intelligences  to  whom  we  have  more  than  once 
before  had  occasion  to  refer,  if  they  were  keeping  a  sharp 
look-out  for  the  good  of  mankind  on  the  East  side,  on  that 
eventful  night,  may  have  been  peeping  over  poor  Tim's 
shoulder  and  reading  the  odd  scrawl  which  follows,  barring 
the  actual  chirography,  in  which  capital  and  small  letters, 
writing  and  printing,  were  ludicrously  mixed  and  jumbled,  so 
that  mere  type  would  fail  in  any  attempt  at  imitation: — 

"  .Mister  Hevlin.  I  doant  want  your  to  think  that  I  am  a  litel  r  ask  el  and 
a  retch  wich  some  prigs  says  I  am,  only  hutnly  on  account  of  my  i's  bein 
cruked.  Dern  it,  I  cant  help  thet,  cin  I  ?  I  want  to  tell  your  this  ere.  I  like 
your  like  everything,  stead  o  hatin  your.  Doan't  your  reniembir  wen  you 
hit  them  are  boys  as  was  a  hazin  of  raee  ?  Ses  I  then  i'll  do  ennything  I  cin 
for  Mister  Hcvlin.  Dod  dern  it — I  spose  I  must  npeared  a  verry  bad  boy 
wen  I  nokt  over  the  box  and  hit  your.  I  hed  to  ly  wen  you  askt  me,  to  kepe 
that  ere  poleeser  from  a  lugin  me  off  by  the  eer,  but  I  did  thro  the  box  ovir 
onto  your,  a  purpus.  I  doant  hardly  no  how  to  tel  your  what  I  done  it  fur, 
but  I  musst.  I  ment  to  hirt  your,  not  mutch  but  a  little  so's  to  kepe  your 
from  goin  away.  I  thout  mebbe  you'd  stay  home  ef  you  was  lame.  Mister 
Holt — dern  him — doesent  mene  no  good  to  Missers  Hcvlin.  I've  seen  him  a 
lukin  at  hir  when  she  was  down  to  the  stoar,  and  a  smakin  of  his  lipps. 
Mel/be  he  baits  her  for  somethin,  and  seem's  to  me's  ef  he  would  most  eat 
hir.  He  wantid  your  to  go  away,  and  I  thout  your  outnent  to  go.  Se 
me's  ef  your  had  better  come  back  if  you  cin — ony  doant  tell  Mister  Holt  for 
he  woud  kil  me  thet  'd  be  what  wus  the  matter--dcrn  him.  Donnt  think 
herd  of  me  dear  Mister  Hevlin.  This  ere  is  from  yure  litel  frend  Tim  the 
arrant  boy." 


CHAPTER  XL 

How  Kate  Haviland,  the  teacher,  was  called  to  the 
Seat  of  Judgment,  and  how  she  conducted  herself 
there — Humility  and  Arrogance — A  Trap,  and  who 
Fell  into  it — What  Kate  Haviland  overheard  behind 
the  Curtain — Mary  Haviland's  Picture — A  whole 
hash  of  Revelations — A  Letter,  and  some  anxiety 
about  Another. 

If  Kate  Haviland  believed,  when  she  had  succeeded  in 
impressing  the  two  spoiled  Fullerton  children  with  some 
sense  of  her  authority  and  winning  commendation  from  their 
mother  and  elder  sister,  that  her  troubles  were  over,  or  that 
her  path  of  learning  (to  others)  was  to  be  thenceforth  one  of 
flowers, — she  was  not  quite  the  wise  and  wide-awake  girl 
that  certain  previous  movements  would  indicate.  The 
ignorant,  narrow-minded  and  purse-proud  are  proverbially 
brief  in  their  fits  of  satisfaction,  and  liable  to  go  off  at  any 
moment  into  paroxysms  of  the  opposite  feeling,  for  which 
they  have  not  much  more  care  than  capacity  to  give  an  ac- 
count. They  are  cats  :  smooth  the  fur  the  right  way  all  the 
while,  and  nothing  can  be  pleasanter  than  their  purring, 
even  towards  a  dependant;  but  woe  to  the  rash  hand, 
especially  one  beneath  them  in  position,  that  happens  to  rub 
it  the  backward  way  and  evoke  those  electric  sparkles  which 
are  so  sure  to  be  followed  by  an  angry  yell  and  the  tearing 
of  the  claws  !  From  such  people,  for  every  kind  word  that 
has  before  fallen,  there  are  sure  to  be  scores  of  sharp  epithets 
and  cutting  allusions,  cancelling,  ten  times  over,  all  the  good 
impressions  they  may  before  have  made  by  their  transient 
exhibition  of  winning  qualities.  Happy  they  who,  placed 
in  dependence  upon  such  people  for  the  very  bread  that  is  to 
be  eaten  day  by  day,  have  before  entering  into  any  relation 
with  them,  learned  the  difficult  art  of  bearing  with  patience, 
or  that  still  more  useful  though  less  amiable  art  of  putting 
222 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  223 

on  the  defensive  armor  furnished  to  order  by  contempt  and 
tgnonng  the  insults  and  undervaluations  altogether  I    \vi    . 

':'"'"' ">P»ies  was  most  nearly  in  the  possession of 

the   young  governess,   or   whether  she  could  lav  claim  to 

f|*-.wil  be  better  nnders, I  when  shehas  be^eSted 

in  other  phases  of  her  employment 

fon^anfitT  ""al',y  a  T°'n,h  hl  hM  '•'lal'Se  at  the  Fuller- 
tons,  and I  it  was  approaching  the  middle  of  .May  when  the 
back   of  the   employing  cat  receive,!  its  first  strain    he 

TZ , :*•     °n  the  aft~  P'-i0-  to  themorn^ 

to  which  attention  is  specially  called,  there  had   been  what 

-ay   be   designated   as  a   "row"  in  the  little  sehXo  m 

Both  Myraand  .Mildred,  after  a  day  or  two  of  such  e  t     ' 

ordinary  obedience  and   goodness  that  the  younl  t™     , 

beheved   the  treacherous  calm  could  not  last,  had     olaced 

themselves   by  breaking   out  into  sullenness  and    ebellfon 

Myra  had  refused  to  pay  any  attention  whatever  to  her  , 

u   geography   (,n   which  study,    by  the   way,  she    had  sine 

Kates  coming  managed   to  learn   the  difference  between  a 

cape  and  a  continent),  and  when  reprimanded   and   male  to 

stand  on  the  floor  for  half  an  hour  until  she  committed      to 

memory    called   the  teacher  by   that  forcible  but    nefegant 
ep,het  ,a       t         ,y  beast„     Th.s  had         (o  the  ^J  at 

o     whi!,'8'       \     Dg  S0U,K"y  b0X6d  <a  mode  of  Punishment 

Xectu Tj"     'Ve   n°  defenCe  t0  0ffe''  but  °ne  V*»  « 
effectual    as    improper,    sometimes).     Thereupon    Mildred 

Styinr:  neDthUP  «  *******  ^ -unicated  the 
startling  mtelhgehce  that  «  her  mother  said  she  [to  wit 
Kate]  was  a  b>g  black  nigger  and  wanted  whipping  herself" 

In  support  of  which  theory  Mildred  had  "pitched  into"    he 
cache,      d  done  h      sma]]  at  |;.  ,k .    Phw  ^       oh 

of  the  anatomy  not  commonly  m,ntioned  in  connection  with 

vou    .7l"i'    7'     ,eS/""S/     And  ",is  had  >«'  to  the  latter 
■S  «.ly Ik,;,,  placed :i,,  a  horizontal  position  and  soundly- 

The  121 TZ       WWh  We  beIie-doesnotoften  enter into 
the   material    of  modern   roma,Hv-,7Ja,„fc, ,/.'      Under   this 

c"n  InsTon    H  *"  ^^  *  ^  br0U«ht  *  «« 5 

.      c  toT  '•       '  ^  S,T°  °ther  reWli0DS  may  *>  ^en  the} 
come  to  their  mev.table  end  or  defeat,  i.  had  left  evil  conse- 


224  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

quenccs  behind  it  in  it?  effect  upon  society.  Not  that  either 
of  the  children  would  have  told  of  this  little  escapade,  any 
more  than  of  some  of  corresponding  character  which  had 
preceded  it.  Miserably  educated  and  half  spoiled,  with 
nearly  all  the  vices  which  could  well  he  attached  to  the  dis- 
positions of  such  people.  Myra  and  Mildred  had  yet  shown 
that  one  virtue — indisposition  to  tell  out  of  the  school-room 
what  had  occurred  within  it, — on  which  Kate  believed  that 
something  better  and  nobler  might  one  day  be  built  up.  They 
had  not  run  away  and  detailed  to  mother  or  sister  how  they 
had  been  beaten,  bruised  and  mangled  by  the  female  Ogre  of 
the  Tree  of  Knowledge.  But  unfortunately,  in  this  instance, 
Mrs.  Fullertou  had  happened  to  be  within  ear-shot  of  the 
scream  which  little  Mildred  vented  when  subjected  to  that 
peculiarly  unpleasant  "  laying  on  of  hands,"  and  the  result 
had  been  the  calling  of  both  children  into  her  presence,  the 
same  evening,  and  the  extracting  from  them,  by  threats  of 
flogging  them  soundly  herself,  of  such  ex  parte  testimony 
as  would  convict  Kate  Haviland,  in  the  same  court,  of  a 
most  gross  and  unprovoked  outrage  against  the  quiet  of  the 
Fullertou  family  and  the  peace  and  dignity  of  the  same. 

While  taking  her  late  breakfast  the  next  morning,  Kate 
had  been  informed  by  the  dignified  matron,  with  a  chilling 
tone  in  her  voice,  calculated  to  freeze  the  marrow  of  de- 
pendent people, — and  with  a  frown  on  her  brow,  as  Jovian  as 
the  different  sexes  permitted,  that  she,  the  matron,  "  wished 
to  see  her  [the  teacher]  in  the  front  room,  immediately  after 
breakfast,"  After  which  the  matron  had  swept  away,  and 
Kate,  who  saw  the  storm  gathering,  had  prepared  for  the 
ordeal  with  such  putting  on  of  fear  and  trembling  as  her 
own  slightly -jolly  disposition  rendered  possible.  This  was 
the  situation  of  affairs  when  bonny  Kate  entered  the  : 
into  which  we  have  been  more  than  once  before  introduced, 
on  the  morning  in  question. 

Cortesi  made  a  terrible  Medea:  who  does  not  remember 
her,  in  that  character  and  during  the  short  opera  season  at 
Xiblo's  in  1858-9  ?  When  that  proud,  massive,  statuesque 
woman,  with  her  eyes  fire,  her  brow  corrugated  into  whip- 
cords, and  passionate  love  and  hate  shaking  every  nerve  in 


THB      HAYS      OF      SHODDY.  225 

her  system  until  some  awful  convulsion  seemed  inevitable-^ 

who,,  she  stood  will!  a  child  in  either  hand,  awaiting  the 
coming  of   theIr  faith,ess    fatner_th'e   impreg8i0D   0*  th; 

mind  ot  il,o  auditor  was  that  in  real  life  a  woman  possessed 
of  tin-  same  nature  and  similarly  circumstanced,  would  not 
He  a  pleasant  person  to  come  home  to  !  Mrs  Fullerton  may 
or  may  not  have  seen  Cortesi  in  that  rendering .-  certain  it  is 
t  nil  on  the  morning  in  question  .she  looked  only  less  terrible 
than  the  Mexican  prima  donna,  and  seemed  to  have  taken  a 
hint  from  her  in  position,  as  she  awaited  the  culprit,  sitting 
m  a  high-backed  chair  in  regal  slate,  her  foot  on  an  ottoman, 
and  one  of  the  outraged  darlings  on  either  side  of  her 

It  would  be  pteasant  to  say  that  Kate  Havilnnd,  on  this 
occasion,  maintained  the  dignity  of  the  family  and   was  not 
seriously  impressed   by  the  aspect  of  the  statelv  matron 
She  did  not  maintain  that  dignity  at  all,  and  was  evidently 
very  much  impressed.     She  approached  the  seat  of  judgment 
with  the  true  air  of  a  juvenile  culprit-eyes  cast  down,  a 
sort  of  shuffling  hesitation  in  her  gait,  and  onlv  needing  the 
bttle  finger  stuck  into  the  corner  of  her  mouth,  to  ho  the 
very  ideal  of  the  school-girl  of  twelve  coming  to  be  fended 
She  approached  the  awful  tribunal,  and  there  her  eves  sought 
the  door  yet  more  humbly  and  her  hands  crossed  'before  her 
very  much  as  the  paws  of  Van  Amburgh's  lion  do  when  the 
courage  of  the  beast  is  becoming  conquered  by  the  mastering 
siurit  of  the  man  and  he  wishes  the  gesture  to  say  •     ••  There 
-please  don't  use  that  rawhide  any  more  on  my  delicate 
cuticle,  and  I'll  never  do  so  again-never,  never  "> 

Mrs.  Fullerton,  who  had  been  preparing  a  volley  of  vitup- 
eration to  pour  out  on  the  head  of  a  self-willed  and  arrogarit 
girl  who  had  outraged  the  dignity  of  her  family,  saw  the 
humble  aspect  that  approached  her,  and  she  was  just  a  little 
nonplussed  by  the  difference  from   what  she   had  expected. 
h  the  girl  had  been  defiant-why  then  she  would  have  known 
precisely  what  to  say  to  make  her  shrink  within  her  number- 
iree  gaiters;  but  what  could  she  say  to  a  dependant  who 
was  so  manifestly  frightened  at  what  she  had  done  and  so 
ul    of  deprecation  of  the  wrath  awaiting  her  ?     Paixhans 
Pahlgrens  and  Parrotte  may  be  all  well  enough,  and  indeed 
14 


226  THE      DAYS      OF      SHO  T)  T)  Y . 

indispensable,  wlion  a  stone  fort  or  a  stout  war-vessel  is  to 
be  bombarded;  but  who  would  think  of  employing  <me  of 
those  mighty  modern  engines  of  war  against  a  tea-eft 

one  of  the  kindling-wood  cob-houses  built  by  idle  children  ? 
Jove  might  have  no  objection  to  heating  one  of  Ids  best 
thunderbolts  and  hurling  it  at  a  refractory  Titan  ;  but  would 
not  even  Jove  be  a  little  ashamed  to  throw  away  such  a 
ponderous  bolt  on  Commodore  Xutt  ?  Yet  what  was  to  bi 
done  ?  Allow  pity  to  stand  in  the  way  of  justice,  and  thus  en- 
courage further  departures  from  the  path  of  duty  ?  Never  ! 
— the  dignified  matron  declared  to  herself,  emphatically — ■ 
never  !  At  least  some  punishment  must  be  awarded — at 
least  some  example  must  be  made  of  the  offender.     Ahem  ! 

"So,  miss  !"  began  the  indignant  mother,  while  Myra  and 
Mildred,  one  on  either  hand,  leaned  across  the  back  of  their 
progenitor's  chair  and  exchanged  the  words  of  felicitation 
following  : — 

"  I  say,  Mil !  she  looks  as  if  she  was  going  to  be  licked 
herself  !;' 

"  Yes,  don't  she,  though  !  And  oh  Jemmy,  won't  she 
catch  it !" 

Both  of  which  observations  Miss  Kate  Haviland  heard, 
and  put  them  away  in  her  mental  pocket-book  for  future 
reference. 

w  So,  miss  !"  repeated  the  matron,  not  having  received  any 
response  from  the  palsied  tongue  of  the  culprit, 

"Well,  ma'am?''  answered  the  teacher,  humbly  and  in- 
quiringly. 

"So,  you  have  already  been  disregarding  my  positive  in- 
structions, it  seems  !"  pursued  the  maternal  mentor. 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am,  I'm  sure  I  don't !"  half  sobbed  the 
culprit,  who  was  either  dreadfully  affected  or  a  most  con- 
summate actress. 

"You  do  know!"  answered  the  matron,  the  instinct  of 
overbearing  demeanor  rising  within  her  as  her  dependant 
seemed  to  sink  lower  in  humility.  "  You  do  know  !  These 
dear  children  tell  me  that  you  have  actually  laid  your  hands 
upon  them  in  violence." 


T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  227 

"Oh,  no,  ma'am,  they  couldn't  tell  yon  bo  !*  replied  the 

culprit.     " Such  dear  little  things,  thai  I   love  so  much " 

"Restrain  any  allusion  to  your  feelings.  Miss  Haviland  I" 

said  the  dignified  woman.  "It  is  a  matter  of  very  little  con- 
sequence whether  yon  l<>v<>  my  daughters  or  not:  you  arc  to 
teach   them,  and  to  treat  them  with  proper  consideration 

that  is  all  !" 

"Yes.  ma'am,"  answered  the  disgraced  teacher — the  same 
words,  but  uttered  much  more  humbly,  that  she  had  used  »n 
her  original  examination. 

"My  daughters  tell  me,"  pursued  the  outraged  mother, 
"that  you  last  night  administered  severe  punishment  to  both 
of  them." 

"  Oh.  no,  ma'am,"  again  replied  the  teacher,  "  I  couldn't—" 

"  She  did  !— she  knows  she  did!"  broke  out  Miss  Myra, 
associate  justice  at  her  mother's  right  hand.  "  She  slapped 
my  ears,  so,"  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  "just  as  if  I  was 
a  cat !" 

"And  she  slapped  me,  too— hard— hard  as  ever  she  could  !" 
followed  Miss  Mildred,  junior  associate  at  her  mother's  left 
"Myra  seen  her — there,  now  !" 

"And  what  were  you  doing,  to  make  Miss  Haviland  punish 
you  in  that  manner  ?"  asked  the  mother,  with  that  knowing 
expression  of  the  face  which  a  counsel  uses  when  questioning 
his  own  witness  on  a  point  which  he  has  before  fully  investi- 
gated in  private  and  is  now  bringing  out  in  public. 

"  Nothing  at  all,  Ma  !"  answered  Miss  Myra,  with  such  a 
look  of  injured  innocence  as  might  belong  to  a  Peri  on  trial 
for  highway  robbery. 

"  Nor  I  neither,  Ma  !"  chimed  in  Miss  Mildred.  "  She  just 
went  and— and — and — spanked  me,  for  nothing  at  all." 

"  Children,  don't  talk  so  fast !"  said  the  mother,  in  a  tone 
of  reproof— very  gentle  reproof;  which  conveyed :  "Naughty 
darlings  !     How  proud  mother  is  of  you  I" 

Let  it  be  said,  here,  that  of  all  occasions  for  administering 
reproof  on  account  of  treatment  of  children,  the  most  appro- 
priate is  to  be  found  in  the  presence  of  the  children  them- 
selves. If  Mr.  Smith  has  occasion  to  reprove  his  governess 
for  excessive  harshness,  he  should  ahvavs  have  the  children 


228  THE      DAYS      OF      S  II  O  Y)  I)  T. 

it  when  he  does  bo,  as  it  adds  bo  materially  to  the  re- 
spect borne  by  them  to  the  governess  and  pats  all  parti' 
such  a  satisfactory  footing.  And  when  Mr.  Jones  tinds  it 
-  ny  to  have  a  little  plain  talk  with  his  wife,  or  Mrs. 
Jones  with  her  husband,  about  something  in  the  management 
of  their  darlings,  and  when  a  pleasant  little  domestic  till",  not 
to  say  a  quarrel,  is  morally  certain  to  arise  between  the  two — 
by  all  means  the  little  ones  themselves  should  be  wit; 
of  the  whole  affair,  because  they  will  thereafter  so  much  better 
understand  the  anxiety  felt  for  their  welfare  by  both  father 
and  mother  !  The  effect  is  still  better  if  Mr.  Smith  breaks  in 
upon  the  governess  with  his  reproof,  at  the  very  moment  when 
she  has  just  succeeded  after  a  long-  fight  with  a  stubborn  will 
and  an  ugly  temper:  and  if  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Jones  takes  the  op- 
portunity of  administering  reproof  to  the  marital  partner  the 
moment  after  punishment  has  been  awarded  to  the  child.  In 
either  case,  a  pleasant  state  of  affairs  may  be  calculated  upon 
at  some  future  day  ;  and  nature  is  so  just  in  its  compensa- 
tions, that  in  such  instances,  at  least,  those  who  sow  are  very 
likely  to  have  the  privilege  of  reaping  the  profitable  crop. 

"  You  see,  Miss  Haviland,"  said  the  mother,  loftily,  "both 
my  children  agree  as  to  your  action.  I  heard  their  screams 
myself,  and  there  cannot  be  any  doubt  in  the  world  that  you 
beat  them  both — beat  them,  I  say — my  children.  Xow  what 
have  you  to  say  for  yourself?" 

"  Nothing,  ma'am  \n  answered  the  school-teacher,  still  in 
the  same  tone  of  submission. 

"  Nothing  ?  I  should  think  not !"  said  the  mother.  "  It 
is  well  that  you  have  that  sense  of  propriety,  Miss,  at  least ! 
I  think  you  understood,  when  you  first  came  into  this  house, 
that  your  business  was  to  teach  these  dear  girls,  and  not  to 
impose  upon  them.  Am  I  to  understand  that  you  now  realize 
your  position  better,  and  that  if  I  overlook  this  misconduct  I 
m'ay  expect  better  attention  to  my  orders  for  the  future  ?*' 

"Certainly,  ma'am!"  answered  Kate.  "The  dear  little 
things,  lovely  and  innocent  as  they  are,  shall  not  be  hurt  on 
any  consideration.  But  I  don't  think  I  could  possibly  have 
touched  one  of  them,  for  I  never  correct  children  under  my 
care,  when  they  are  behaving  properly.     I  suppose,  ma'am, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  229 

that  if  either  of  the  dear  little  girls  did  misbehave  themselves, 
you  would  wish  them  taught  to  do  better?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Fullerton,  with  that  sublime  con- 
fidence that  her  children  could  not  misconduct  themselves 
under  any  circumstances,  which  made  the  authorization  of  no 
effect  whatever.  "  But  I  do  not  believe,  .Miss  Hayiland,  that 
my  children  ever  conduct  themselves  in  such  a  way  as  to  re- 
quire what  you  are  pleased  to  call  correction." 

'•  Xo,  Ma  !  nary  time  !"  asserted  Myra,  with  a  proof  of  the 
classic  severity  of  her  education,  broadly  conveyed  in  the 
elegance  of  her  English 

"  Oh  no,  Ma  !  We're  always  as  good  as— as— as— "  and 
finally  little  Mildred  thought  of  the  necessary  comparison, 
more  or  less  appropriate — "  as  rats  !" 

"  Now  I  couldn't  have  laid  my  hand  angrily  upon  one  of 
these  little  ladies,  because  they  are  so  good,"  said  theteacher, 
with  something  in  her  voice  that  a  little  belied  the  downcast 
humility  of  her  previous  demeanor,  and  that  made  the  matron 
glance  at  her  for  the  moment  uneasily.  "  I  don't  think  I  have 
punished  any  little  girl  in  the  last  year,  except  two.  One  of 
them  called  me  a  'nasty,  ugly  beast,'  and  I  boxed  her  ears; 
and  the  other  one  designated  me  as  a  'big  black  nigger,'  and 
kicked  me,  and  I  am  afraid  that  I  took  her  across'my  knee. 
I  think  I  should  do  it  again,  with  almost  any  lady's  chil- 
dren." 

"  Why  that  was  us!"  broke  out  little  Mildred,  fairly  caught 
in  the  toils.  "  That  was  what  Myra  said  before  she  slapped 
her,  and  that  was  what  I  done  before  she  spanked  me!  See 
what  a  story-teller  she  is  !" 

"  Oh,  you  did  do  something,  then,  my  little  dears,  before 
you  were  punished,  did  you  ?"  asked  the  teacher,  humble  and 
downcast-looking  no  longer,  but  erect  and  radiant.  "Now, 
madam,  you  have  at  last  got  the  truth,  and  perhaps  you  like 
it!  Have  you  any  further  directions  to  give  me,  how  I  am 
to  manage  these  children  who  never  misbehave  themselves?" 

"  Miss  Haviland,  you  may  take  these  children  away  to  the 
nursery,  and  don't  let  me  hear  anything  more  about  them  for 
the  next  month  !"  was  the  reply  of  the  dignified  mother,  who 
was  not  too  great   a  fool,  even  with  all  her  pride,  to  realize 


230  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

how  completely  she  had  herself  been  victimized,  and  how  the 
young  girl,  with  her  studied  humility,  had  entrapped  the  two 
ill-tempered  and  ungovernable  children  into  betraying  their 
own  misconduct  and  vindicating  her.  It  is  just  possible  that 
she  mustered  common-sense  and  good  feeling  enough,  for  the 
moment,  to  be  aware  that  the  children  were  in  very 
hands,  and  that  the  less  intermeddling-  indulged  in  as  to  their 
management,  the  more  hope  that  they  might  not  become  alto- 
gether ungovernable  even  by  herself. 

But  Madam  was  not  yet  to  escape  the  trouble  of  her 
attempted  oversight  of  the  education  of  her  children,  as  it 
appeared.  Myra  had  shown  a  cramp  in  her  hand-writing, 
giving  reason  to  fear  that  she  might  be  afflicted  with  some 
chronic  disease  in  her  hand ;  and  the  teacher  had  been 
anxious  to  consult  the  mother  on  the  subject,  without  caring 
to  break  through  her  habitual  reserve.  And  now  a  proper 
opportunity  seemed  to  offer.  In  a  few  words  she  expressed 
her  fears  and  inquired  whether  her  employer  would  come  to 
the  school-room  to  examine  the  writing-book. 

11  No,"  said  the  mother,  who  had  a  not  unnatural  horror  of 
places  where  children  are  being  taught — "bring  the  writing- 
book  here,  in  a  few  minutes,  after  you  have  set  the  girls  their 
lessons,  and  we  will  see  what  is  the  matter." 

A  very  little  affair,  apparently,  to  decide  whether  she  should 
step  to  the  school-room  to  make  the  necessary  examination, 
or  whether  the  teacher  should  come  to  her  in  that  room  ;  and 
yet  more  actually  hung  upon  that  decision  than  any  finite 
mind  could  calculate. 

Mrs.  Fullerton  left  the  room,  immediately  after  the  conver- 
sation recorded;  and  at  the  same  time  Kate  Haviland,  accom- 
panied by  the  two  slightly  crest-fallen  children,  took  her  way 
to  the  school-room.  Some  fifteen  minutes  afterwards,  her 
pupils  set  down  to  certain  lessons  to  which  they  would  be 
likely  to  attend  during  her  absence,  very  much  as  children  in 
larger  schools  do  when  all  oversight  is  temporarily  withdrawn 
from  them, — the  young  girl,  writing-book  in  hand,  returned 
to  the  room  in  which  she  was  once  more  to  have  audience  of 
her  "  patroness." 

Mrs.  Fullerton  had  not  vet  returned,  and  when  she  entered 


T  HE       D  A  Y  S      OF      S  11  U  U  D  Y.  2ol 

the  room  the  teacher  for  the  moment  believed  that  it  was 
unoccupied.  She  stepped  within,  and  had  advanced  half  way 
up  the  room  when  she  became  aware  that  there  were  persons 
within  it,  and  yet  concealed,  in  conversation.  It  may  be  re- 
membered that  the  windows  of  this  room  were  so  deep  as 
literally  to  form  alcoves,  and  that  they  were  shaded  by  heavy 
rose -colored  worsted  curtains,  besides  those  of  lace  which 
showed  from  the  street — so  that  persons  sitting  or  standing 
within  would  be  entirely  sheltered  from  observation  by  others 
within  the  room,  and  the  tone  of  their  conversation  con- 
siderably muffled.  It  is  not  for  this  chronicle  to  say  that 
Miss  Dora  Fullerton  had  arranged  the  upholstery  of  these 
windows  with  especial  reference  to  their  convenience  for 
flirtation,  but  recesses  of  this  same  character  have  been 
known  to  be  devoted  to  purposes  very  similar,  and  some 
Puritan  fathers  and  prudish  mothers  have  also  been  known 
to  object  to  their  construction,  on  grounds  displaying  not  too 
much  confidence  in  the  propriety  of  male  and  female  hu- 
manity. As  a  lounging-place,  Miss  Dora  somewhat  affected 
it,  whether  alone  or  with  company  ;  and  that  pleasant  May 
morning,  with  air  that  even  the  million  breaths  of  the  city 
could  not  make  other  than  delicious,  floating  in  through  the 
half  opened  window,  it  was  certainly  a  most  rational  spot  for 
a  quiet  hour  of  reading  or  conversation.  The  latter  was  the 
purpose  to  which  it  was  devoted  in  the  present  instance,  as 
Kate  Haviland  discovered  when  she  had  half-way  crossed  the 
room.  One  of  the  voices  she  at  once  recognized  as  that  of 
Dora  Fullerton  :  the  other  left  her  in  doubt  for  an  instant  but 
not  longer — it  belonged  to  Mr.  Ned  Minthorne.  There 
was,  or  should  have  been,  no  reason  for  the  sudden  flush 
which  came  into  the  face  of  bonny  Kate  on  making  the  latter 
discovery  ;  but  perhaps  it  was  only  a  secondary  and  remote 
effect  of  the  intense  red  which  had  burned  over  brow,  cheek 
and  bosom,  nearly  a  month  before,  at  the  moment  of  that 
unfortunate  detection  in  the  school-room  ;  and  perhaps  some- 
thing mysterious  and  unexplainable  which  had  occurred  just 
before  the  departure  of  the  millionaire,  that  morning,  had  a 
little  to  do  with  this  temporary  emotion.  Temporary  it  was  ; 
and  the  young  girl  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  or  at  least 


232  T  II  E       DAYS       OF       S  II  U  D  U  Y. 

to  go  out  of  possible  ear-shot,  when  one  word  not  only  pre-  • 
vented   her  pursuing  that   laudable   intention,  but    actually 
drew  her  nearer  to  the  concealing  curtain.     That  w^nl — .-he 
could  not  he  mistaken — came  from  the  lips  of  the  millionaire, 
and  it  was  "  Ilaviland." 

"Eh?"  thought  the  young  girl — •'  something  about  me? 
What  right  have  these  people  to  be  making  me  a  subject  of 
conversation,  I  should  like  to  know  !  Of  course  I  have  no 
right  to  listen,  but  I  must  hear  just  one  word." 

And  she  did  listen,  and  heard  many  more  words  than  one. 
There  is  no  intention  of  defending  this  conduct  on  the  part 
of  the  teacher,  who,  especially  in  virtue  of  her  profession, 
should  have  been  fully  up  in  all  the  proprieties  of  society 
and  indignantly  incapable  of  listening  to  a  single  sentence 
not  intended  for  her  ears.  But  it  has  been  more  than  once 
before  intimated  that  the  scope  of  this  narration  includes  the 
representation  of  persons  as  they  are  and  not  as  they  should 
be  ;  and  it  is  just  possible  that  ninety-nine  hundredths  of  the 
good  people  who  at  this  juncture  feel  ready  to  say : 
"  A\  nat  a  perverted  state  of  society  that  writer  must  have 
habitually  seen,  or  what  a  disingenuous  mind  he  must  pos- 
se  always  to  be  exhibiting  his  ideal  women  as  peeping  at 

doors,  listening  at  curtains  or  appropriating  letters  that  do 
not  belong  to  them  !" — it  is  just  possible,  we  say,  that  ninety- 
nine  hundredths  of  those  very  good  people,  under  the  proper 
temptation,  would  do  quite  the  same  thing,  or  worse.  And 
besides,  good  sir,  or  madame,  these  are  not  "  ideal  women," 
at  all,  but  real  personages — poor  fallible  flesh  and  blood,  with 
all  the  hopes,  fears,  ordinary  virtues  and  extraordinary  weak- 
-,  of  humanity.  They  could  quite  as  easily  be  depicted 
as  immaculate  ;  just  as  a  certain  eminent  photographer  not 
long  ago  informed  me  of  his  dissatisiied  lady  sitter  that  he 
really  could  not  make  the  picture  any  handsomer  and  yet 
have  it  resemble  her,  but  that  if  she  preferred  it  he  had 
no  objection  to  making  her  a  copy  of  the  handsomest  por- 
trait in  the  gallery  and  letting  her  carry  it  home  as  her 
own  !  Women,  in  romances,  could  easily  be  drawn,  of  un- 
faltering propriety  as  well  as  unimpeachable  morality : 
the  great  trouble  might  be  that  they  would  not  at  all  fesem- 


THE      I)  A  Y  S      0  F      SHODDY.  233 

ble  the  people  of  real  flesh  and  blood  whom  we  met  to-day 
in  the  street  and  will  meet  again  to-night  at  the  opera  or  in 
Bdeiety. 

Kate  Haviland  listened,  and  heard  more  than  one  word. 
Before  she  heard  many,  not  even  the  fear  of  Mrs.  Fullerton 
Coming  in  and  catching  her  in  that  undignified  position  could 
have  drawn  her  away  until  she  had  heard  at  least  a  certain 
number  more.  It  was  the  name  of  Haviland  that  she  had 
heard,  and  she  heard  that  name  repeated.  Evidently  it  had 
before  been  spoken  by  Dora. 

"  Haviland  ?  Haviland  ?  A  nice  ambrotype  and  a  deuced 
pretty  face,  you  know  !"  said  the  millionaire,  inquiringly. 
"  Haven't  you  got  some  person  of  the  same  name  in  the 
house  ?" 

"  Why  how  do  you  know  ?"  asked  Dora,  in  a  quick,  jerky 
voice. 

"  I  ?"  said  the  noodle.  "  Oh,  I  met  a  young  lady — that 
is — a  girl,  I  should  say,  the  other  day  on  the  stairs,  and  I 
heard  one  of  the  little  girls  call  her  by  some  name  like  'Miss 
Haviland."' 

"  Oh,"  replied  the  young  lady.  "  Yes,  wTe  have  a  person 
of  that  name,  here — a  teacher,  from  Rhode  Island,  or  Xew 
Jersey,  or  some  other  outlandish  place  ;  a  coarse  thing — " 

"  I  owe  you  one  more  for  that,  Miss  Dora  Fullerton  !" 
said  the  listener,  between  her  teeth  and  so  low  that  there 
was  no  danger  of  being  overheard.  "  A  '  coarse  thing,'  am 
I  ?  See  if  I  do  not  make  a  settlement  with  you,  before  I 
am  done,  quite  as  effectual  as  any  that  I  have  made  with 
either  of  your  spoiled  sisters  !" 

"  Xo,  if  she  is  coarse,  it  could  not  have  been  the  same  per- 
son that  I  met,"  said  Miuthorne.  "  She  was  rather  pretty,  £ 
thought — that  is — I  mean  that  she  was  not — that  is,  I  have 
seen  homelier  people." 

"You  have,  have  you?"  spoke  Miss  Dora  Fullerton,  in  a 
voice  the  very  reverse  of  pleasant.  "  I  am  really  much 
obliged  to  you,  Mi*.  Minthorne,  that  you  don't  think  her  the 
handsomest  person  in  the  house,  I  am  sure  !" 

u  Now  really,  Miss  Fullerton — "  began  the  millionaire. 

"  Don't  talk  to  me,  sir  !"  said  the  young  lady.     "  Come 


23i  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

into  this  house  and  fall  in  love  with  the  school-teachers,  and 
tbe  chambermaids,  and  eveo  the  cook,  if  you  like,  but   I  had 

a  little  rather  that  you  would  not  go  to  praising  them  to  111  v 
face  !" 

"  How  can  you  be  so  cruel, "  replied  the  millionaire  to  this 
very  sensible  speech,  "  when  you  know — " 

"  Know  what,  sir  ?"  broke  in  the  young  lady. 

" — That  there  is  only  one  face  in  the  house  worth  any 
money — that  is — worth  thinking  about — you  know  what  I 
mean,  I  am  sure  !"  and  the  listener  fancied  that  about  that 
time  a  hand  was  taken,  or  some  other  personal  advance  made 
towards  a  reconciliation ;  for  the  lady's  next  words  were  in  a 
very  different  tone  : 

'•  Well,  there  !  Don't  say  any  thing  more  about  it,  and  I 
won't  scold  you  any  more,  if  you  really  like  me  so  much.  But 
don't  look  at  that  school-teacher  again,  or  I  shall  hate  you  !*' 

"Certainly  not — that  is — if. I  meet  her  again  I  shall  shut 
up  both  eyes  and  look  the  other  way,"  >aid  the  noodle,  who 
certainly  seemed  disposed  to  adopt  the  moat  effectual  pre- 
cautious against  any  further  temptation.  "  But  this#picture 
— you  know  !  The  name  on  the  back  of  it  is  certainly  '  ilav- 
iland,'  and  yet  it  is  not  a  bit  like  her/71 

"  Xo,"  answered  the  lady.  "  Not  a  bit  like  her — a  great 
deal  handsomer.  I  do  not  suppose  that  the  owner  of  this 
picture  is  any  relative  of  the  person  who  teaches  our  chil- 
dren." 

"  And  if  you  do  not  know — of  course  it  is  none  of  my  busi- 
ness— but  a  fellow  likes  to  be  posted  about  all  these  things.'1 
said  the  millionaire,  deprecatingly,  "  how  did  you  come 
by  it  ?» 

"  Oh,  funnily  enough  !  ha  !  ha  !"  said  the  young  girl,  the 
laugh  souuding  strangely  discordant  to  the  listener.  "  I  do 
not  know  that  I  ought  to  tell  you,  but  I  suppose  I  must  ! 
My  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Holt,  was  here  last  night,  and  I  found 
it  beside  the  chair  in  which  he  was  sitting,  only  a  few 
moments  after  he  left.  I  suppose  that  he  must  have  dropped 
it  out  of  his  pocket,  by  accident." 

"But  why  he  ?"'  asked  the  millionaire  noodle,  who  in  spite 
of  his  known  weakness  of  mind,  seemed  sometimes  to  have 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  235 

powers  of  ratiocination  and  habits  of  sticking  to* a  subject, 
surprising  even  if  they  were  not  troublesome.  "  Why  should 
hr  be  tarrying  around  good-looking  Haviland  women  in  his 
pocket,  you  knowr  ?" 

"Bah!  you  don't  know  him!"  said  the  lady,  and  the 
listener  could  recognize  that  her  tone  had  changed  from  the 
careless  discordance  of  a  moment  before,  not  to  petulance 
like  that  which  it  had  exhibited  in  the  preceding  customary 
quarrel  with  her  lover,  but  to  low  and  concentrated  bitterness 
like  that  of  violent  but  suppressed  anger.  "  He  may  ruin  us 
— destroy  us  all,  if  he  likes,  and  if  he  ever  hears  what  I  say  ; 
but  Charles  Holt  is  a  scoundrel,  and  no  woman  is  safe  in  his 
hands.  That  picture  is  the  portrait  of  the  wife  of  one  of  his 
clerks.  How  he  got  possession  of  it,  I  do  not  know,  though 
I  would  almost  give  my  life  to  know.  What  I  do  know  is 
that  he  has  sent  the  husband  awray  to  the  war,  and  that — 
there  ! — what  have  I  been  saying  ?  It  is  all  nonsense,  of 
course:  don't  ask  me  any  thing  more  about  it!  Don't!" 
And  the  listener  knew  that  without  any  of  the  petulant  af- 
fectation, which  she  had  exhibited  when  speaking  of  her  not 
long  before,  she  was  choking  down  tears  and  sobs  of  anger, 
if  she  had  not  indeed  burst  into  unrestrained  indulgence  of 
the  passion. 

And  what  was  the  effect  of  all  this  upon  Kate  Haviland  ? 
Precisely  what  might  have  been  expected,  and  very  nearly 
what  she  deserved  !  People  have  no  right  to  listen  to  what 
is  not  intended  for  their  ears,  as  has  already  been  insinuated 
in  this  connection  ;  and  those  who  outrage  the  rule  must  sub- 
mit to  the  punishment.  The  young  girl,  brave,  self-reliant 
and  not  a  little  jolly,  had  within  five  minutes  been  placed  in 
possession  of  a  mass  of  information  that  was  scarcely  better 
than  ignorance,  while  it  had  the  power  of  making  her  ex- 
ceedingly uncomfortable,  and  perhaps  imposed  upon  her 
onerous  and  painful  duties  without  giving  her  the  mean-  of 
fullilling  them.  Something  wierd  and  strange  seemed  whirl- 
ing and  dancing  in  her  head  ;  her  feet,  as  she  turned  to  leave 
the  room  (for  she  had  forgotten  all  about  the  writing-book, 
now,  and  thought  only  of  escaping  from  possible  detection) 
seemed  to  be  numb  and  treading  upon  air  ;  and  it  was  really 


236  THE       DAYS       OF       SHODD  Y. 

with  quite  an  effort  that  she  succeeded  in  ascending  the  stairs 
and  gaining  the  privacy  Of  her  own  little  bed-room.  There 
she  tried  to  think  more  calmly,  and  partially  succeeded  ; 
though  what  would  she  not  have  given,  at  that  moment,  to 
lay  bee  dizzy  head  upon  the  bosom  of  Aunt  Bessy,  and  con- 
sult her  as  to  the  true  meaning  of  all  that  she  had  heard  ! 
Poof  child  ! — the  wisdom  of  the  simple  country  woman  would 
have  been  of  no  possible  use  to  her:  she  had  gone  beyond 
her  aunt's  atmosphere  as  well  as  her  knowledge,  and  that 
which  required  to  be  done  required  to  be  done  by  herself 
alone. 

And  what  was  it  that  she  had  discovered,  even  partially, 
from  the  conversation  just  overheard  ?  First  :  that  Dora 
Fullerton  hated  as  well  as  looked  down  upon  her,  and  that 
any  visitor  at  the  house  who  even  recognized  her  as  of  the 
same  flesh  and  blood  with  the  family,  was  to  be  tabooed. 
That  was  no  great  wonder,  and  for  that  she  had  been  partially 
prepared  from  the  first  hour  of  her  acquaintance  with  the  Ful- 
lertons.  Second:  that  Mr.  Ned  Minthorne  was  the  strangest 
mixture  possible  to  imagine — apparently  part  fool,  for  no 
man  not  a  fool,  and  possessing  his  wealth,  would  permit  him- 
self to  be  overborne  by  such  arrogant  stupidity  as  that  of 
Dora.  And  yet  not  altogether  fool ;  for  she  could  not  forget 
that  one  moment  in  her  own  school-room,  weeks  before,  when 
he  had  seemed  to  be  a  .-elf-possessed,  clear-headed,  even  com- 
manding man — one  to  be  respected  as  well  as  obeyed.  And 
not  by  any  means  at  all  simple  or  transparent  ;  for  evidently 
he  had  not  told  Dora  Fullerton,  to  whom  he  was  engaged 
(so  at  least  the  children  averred,  and  she  had  no  reason  to 
doubt  the  statement),  one  word  of  his  adventure  with  her  in 
the  school-room  ;  and  she  had  just  heard  him  give  a  false  ex- 
planation of  his  having  seen  her  at  all,  something  in  his 
speech  all  the  while  indicating  that  he  was  endeavoring  to 
make  sly  discoveries  with  reference  to  her  and  to  Dora's  feel- 
ings towards  her.  An  odd  problem,  certainly,  for  clearer 
h^ads  than  the  puzzled  little  noddle  of  the  school-teacher  ! 
Third :  a  corroboration  of  previous  suspicions  that  something 
was  wrong  in  the  relation  sustained  by  Air.  Charles  Holt 
towards  his  mother-in-law.     Once  during  the  fortnight  ^lio 


T  H  K      PAYS      OF      S  IT  O  D  D  Y.  237 

had  happened  to  be  present  for  a  few  moments  when  the 
merchant  was  in  the  PO0B9  with  both  mother  and  daughter, 
and  she  had.  scon  that  both  bowed  to  him  with  a  cringing 
and  yet  defiant  subserviency,  totally  different  from  their  con- 
duct to  any  oilier  visitor.  And  what,  coupled  with  this,  did 
Dora's  exclamation  mean  :  "  He  may  ruin  us — destroy  us  all, 
if  he  likes,  and  if  he  ever  hears  what  I  say"  ?  Some  mystery 
of  misfortune,  if  not  of  crime,  was  certainly  involved,  and  the 
whole  family  had  a  share  in  it.  What  could  it  be,  and  how 
far  would  its  existence  imperil  the  comfort  or  the  peace  of  a 
resident  in  the  household  ?  Kate  Haviland  might  even  have 
been  a  witness  of  the  interview  between  the  merchant  and  his 
wife,  in  his  own  house,  and  though  she  would  have  been  still 
more  impressed  with  the  existence  of  some  terrible  mystery, 
and  seen  the  degradation  that  had  fallen  upon  Olvmpia  Holt, 
another  member  of  the  same  family,  yet  she  would  have  been 
quite  as  unable  as  at  this  moment  to  decipher  the  strange 
hieroglyphics  with  which  fate  sets  down  the  first  records  of 
all  that  is  occult  and  dangerous.  Fourth — and  the  thing  of 
most  immediate  and  pressing  moment :  a  picture  of  her 
cousin  Burtnett's  wife  was  in  the  possession  of  the  Fullerton 
family,  fallen  from  the  pocket  of  Charles  Holt,  his  old  em- 
ployer ;  and  it  was  a  matter  of  remark  in  mouths  not  likely 
to  jest  upon  such  a  subject,  that  the  merchant  had  sent  away 
his  clerk  that  he  might  the  more  easily  accomplish  his  dis- 
honor !  What  perils  were  these  indeed  surrounding  Mary 
Haviland  ?  An  hour  before,  she  would  have  staked  her  life 
on  the  young  wife's  fidelity  and  the  impossibility  of  her 
being  placed  in  such  circumstances  as  even  to  put  her 
good  name  at  hazard  :  now,  there  were  the  words  of  Dora 
and  the  fact  that  the  portrait  had  been  in  the  possession 
of  the  merchant,  to  make  her  at  least  pause  and  consider. 
And  yet  what  to  do,  granting  that  any  such  peril  really  ex- 
isted ?  Destiny,  in  permitting  her  to  overhear  that  conver- 
sation, seemed  to  have  set  her  a  task  :  what  was  it,  and  how 
was  it  to  be  accomplished  ?  Speak  to  Mary  Haviland  on 
tli<-  subject  I — if  innocent  of  imprudence,  (and  that  she  could 
not  be  guilty  of  more,  the  young  girl  knew),  and  if  the  pic- 


238  THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

ture  had  merely  pome  into  the  merchant's  hands  by  some 
more  accident, — the  miestfon  might  offend  the  wife,  and  at 
tin'  same  time  establish  for  herself  the  most  detestable  of  all 
reputations,  that  of  the  spy  and  the  meddler.     Write  to  IJurt- 

nett  Haviland  and  tell  him  what  she  had  hoard  ? — that  might 
establish  the  same  reputation  in  his  regard,  besides  paining 
and  worrying  him,  without  accomplishing  any  good.  Was 
ever  the  .brain  of  a  poor  little  woman  more  puzzled,  than 
Kate  Haviland's  in  that  half  hour  in  her  chamber,  before  she 
had  sufficiently  composed  herself  to  descend  to  the  school- 
room and  attend  once  more  to  the  interests  of  her  pupils  ? 

At  length  she  did  descend,  however — found  their  tasks 
neglected  and  Myra  engaged  in  tying  Mildred  up  to  a  desk 
with  one  of  her  garters,  with  the  declared  intention  of  flogging 
her  soundly  with  the  ruler  when  she  had  got  her  into  proper 
position — re-established  order  in  that  troublesome  community 
of  two — and  then,  while  they  at  least  for  the  moment  pursoed 
their  studies,  sat  down  to  write — what  ? — a  letter  to  Burtnett 
Haviland,  exhibiting  at  least  part  of  the  resolutions  which 
she  had  finally  formed. 

Her  cousin  and  herself  had  been  very  dear  friends  since 
childhood,  though  he  was  some  years  the  elder.  She  had  been 
his  "little  wife"  at  school,  under  the  roof  of  the  red  school- 
house  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  beside  the  alder  pond  half  a 
mile  from  Duffsboro ;  and  when  separated  they  had  ever 
since  been  occasional  correspondents.  Perhaps  no  one  un- 
derstood the  odd,  merry  girl  better  than  her  cousin  ;  and  when 
she  met  him  they  had  always  been  in  the  habit  of  exchang- 
ing sly  hints  and  making  odd  comparisons,  a  little  unintelli- 
gible and  very  nonsensical,  sometimes,  to  those  who  did  not 
understand  the  peculiarities  which  seemed — so  to  speak — to 
run  in  the  Haviland  stock.  As  a  consequence,  though  Kate 
was  in  the  present  instance  writing  with  a  purpose  and  a 
very  serious  one,  she  either  thought  it  best  to  spice  the  letter 
with  her  old  manner,  so  as  tu  avoid  alarming  her  cousin  too 
much  with  her  own  apparent  seriousness, — or  found  it  im- 
possible to  avoid  the  peculiarity.  The  odd  mixture  read 
partially  as  follows  : — 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  239 

Up  in  my  sctiooi.-rodm,  wittt  two  children  who  will  not  study 

AND  WILL  GABBLE,  NlOW  YoKK,  MAY ,  1861. 

Dear  Cousin  : — 

Did  I  promise  to  write  to  you,  before  you  went  away?  If  so,  here  is  the 
fulfilment  of  the  promise.  If  not,  you  are  getting  more  than  you  deserved  or 
expected,  and  ought  to  be  duly  grateful  to  the  overruling  providences  for  this 
little  dash  in  upon  the  (supposed)  tedium  of  your  soldier  life.  I  do  not  know 
but  I  should  have  written  you  before,  if  I  had  not  been  very  busy.  Apart 
from  my  duty  of  keeping  these  two  charming  Pullerton  children  from  un- 
learning any  thing  of  the  little  they  know,  (they  have  never  learned  any 
thing  but  that  splendid  science — mischief!)  I  have  been  studying  some  ab- 
struse problems  in  scriptural  antiquity.  I  have  been  very  desirous  to  know 
what  was  the  precise  market  value  of  Cain's  best  brindle  heifer;  whether 
they  really  were  potatoes  or  only  Jerusalem  artichokes  that  Shein's  pig 
rooted  up  in  Japhet's  garden;  who  was  the  shipbuilder  that  put  a  new 
bowsprit  into  the  Ark,  and  whether  it  was  oak  or  chestnut;  where  Julial 
bought  his  fiddle-strings;  whether  Miriam's  timbrel  was  a  bass-drum  or  only 
n  darkey  tamborine:  with  several  other  problems  of  great  interest  to  humanity. 
I  have  a  big  pile  of  books  all  around  me,  in  seventeen  different  languages  and 
well  thumbed,  and  when  I  solve  any  of  the  questions  I  will  let  you  know  by" 
telegraph.  And  now  for  yourself.  Don't  get  shot,  and  don't  contract  the  bad 
habit,  while  you  are  lying  idle  in  camp,  of  playing  division-loo  for  buttons. 
Especially  don't  cut  off  the  buttons  from  your  coat  to  play  with.  Wash  your 
face  at  least  once  a  week  :  you  will  find  that  healthier  than  doing  it  once  a 
month.  Do  you  dreadful  Fire  Zouaves  really  set  fire  to  one  of  your  tents 
every  night,  for  the  sake  of  putting  it  out  with  a  cannon,  or  is  that  only  a 
story  they  tell?  Let  me  know  when  you  answer  this,  if  you  ever  do  answer  it. 
I  wish  you  could  pick  me  up  a  nice  little  nigger  somewere  down  there — a 
dwarf  if  you  can  find  one.  I  want  him  for  a  page,  some  day  when  I  get  to  be 
Queen  of  the  Cannibal  Islands.  If  you  can't  find  me  a  dwarf,  send  me  one 
of  the  ordinary  style,  not  too  large,  and  I  will  put  a  stone  on  his  head  and"s 
keep  him  down.  *  *  *  *  I  suppose  that  you  hear  from  Mary  every  day,  so 
that  I  need  not  tell  you  any  thing  about  her.  She  was  well  when  I  ran  up 
the  other  day,  and  so  was  Pet — well  and  kicking.  (She  kicked  me.)  By  the 
way,  an  odd  genius  that  old  employer  of  yours,  Mr.  Holt,  must  be.  He  must 
take  a  very  warm  interest  in  you,  for  he  had  a  picture  of  your  wife  in  his 
pocket  when  he  was  here  yesterday,  and  dropped  it  out  so  that  the  family  got 
hold  of  it  (I  did  not  see  it)  and  were  admiring  her  and  saying  what  a  lucky 
fellow  you  were.  But  now  you  have  had  enough  of  my  gossip.  Scribble  me 
something,  some  day  when  you  have  time,  with  a  stubby  pencil  on  a  piece  of 
greasy  paper  (isn't  that  the  way  you  soldiers  do?)  on  the  head  of  a  drum  or 
the  seat  of  one  of  your  camp-stools. 

Ever  your  affectionate  good-for-nothing  cousin 

Kate  Haviland. 

There  were  a  few  words  of  the  conversation  between  Dora 
Fullerton  and  Ned  Minthorne,  that  Kate  Haviland,  running 
away  when  satisfied  that  there  was  to  be  nothing  more  con- 
cerning herself  or  her  family,  did  not  catch.     They  were  of 


240  TITE      DAYS      OF      SIIOPDY. 

public  if  not  of  private  interest,  and  may  be  very  briefly  de? 
tailed  as  a  pendant  to  this  chapter. 

"Ma's  letter,  that  was  to  go  down  to  Montgomery  ?""  asked 
the  young  lady,  when  the  excitement  of  the  conversation  be- 
fore detailed  had  passed  over.  "I  do  not  know  whether 
she  has  asked  you  about  it,  or  not — I  have  never  thought  of 
it.     Did  you  send  it  ?" 

"  Xo  I"  said  the  millionaire. 

"  What !"  almost  shouted  the  young  girl,  half  springing  to 
her  feet,  her  face  ashy  white  with  something  like  fear,  and 
then  instantly  red  with  anger.  "You  did  not  send  it?  You 
dared — " 

u  My  dear  Miss  Fullerton,"  said  the  noodle,  who  had  been 
looking  at  her  very  calmly  and  with  that  in  his  eyes  which 
would  have  been  close  observation  by  any  man  not  a  fool — 
rt  don't  be  alarmed  !  If  there  was  any  thing  of  consequence 
in  it—" 

11  You're  a  fool ! — a  miserable  fool  !,?  almost  hissed  the 
young  lady.  "  There  was  life,  death,  ruin,  every  thing  in 
that  package  !" 

"  Good  gracious  \n  said  the  noodle — "  so  much  property 
near  Montgomery  !     I  had  no  idea,  you  know." 

"Bah!"  said  the  young  girl,  speaking  at  the  millionaire 
but  really  to  herself.  "  If  Ma  thought  you  were  to  be 
trusted  at  all,  why  did  she  not  trust  you  altogether  ?  There 
was  important  information  there,  from  the  Men  of  the  True 
South,  in  this  city,  for  President  Davis.  If  that  is  lost,  or 
if  it  has  got  into  the  wrong  hands,  some  of  our  necks  will 
be  cheap  !     Where  is  the  letter  ?     Do  you  know  that  V 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  noodle.  "  That  is,  I  know  where  it 
was.  Your  mother  said  that  it  was  of  a  good  deal  of  con- 
sequence, though  I  thought,  you  know,  that  it  was  all  about 
property — property  is  the  main  thing,  after  all — and 
hadn't  much  to  do — I  never  do  have  much  to  do,  in  the 
spring,  before  a  fellow  can  get  away  to  some  of  the  watering- 
places — why,  I  just  ran  down  to  Washington  and  delivered  it 
myself,  you  know." 

"  Pshaw  !  then  the  letter  is  delivered,  after  all !"  said  the 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  241 

you n 2:  ladv.  "And  what  was  1  bo  use  of  frisrhteninff  me  in 
that  manner  ?" 

"  Why,  /didn't  say  any  tMng  to  frighten  you,  I  am  sure  !" 
said  the  millionaire.  "  You  asked  me  if  I  ient  it;  I  said  no. 
You  hadn't  asked  me  yet  if  I  had  taken  it,  don't  you  see  ?" 

"Yes,  I  see!"  answered  Miss  Dora.  "But  I  wish,  Ned 
Minthorne,  that  you  would  be  more  like  other  people." 

"  Which  of  them  ?"  asked  the  subject  of  this  compli- 
mentary wish. 

"Any  of  them  that  have  brains!"  was  what  the  ladv 
thought ;  but  what  she  said  was  :  "  Oh,  anybody,  everybody  ! 
never  mind  !  Come — let  us  go  down  to  lunch."  And  to 
lunch  they  went  down  accordingly. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

How  Charles  Holt,  Merchant,  displayed   his  delicacy 

AND     BECAME     HIS     OWN     ERRAND-BOY — MARY     HaVILAND'S 

Visitor,  with  closer  peeps  at  his  character — AY  hat 
the  Merchant  found  in  an  Old  Drawer — How  the 
Visits  multiplied  and  the  Xet  drew  closer — A  little 

"  BRIBERY  AND  CORRUPTION" — KATE  HaVILAND'S  RESEARCH, 
AND  HOW  VERY  MUCH  SHE  DISCOVERED. 

It  will  again  be  necessary  to  go  back  a  little,  in  the  order 
of  time,  that  the  reader,  who  of  course  must  not  on  an 
account  be  left  mystified  with  what  so  puzzles  all  the 
characters  in  the  life-drama,  may  understand  precisely  what 
had  really  occurred  to  affect  the  fortunes  and  the  reputation 
Of  Mary  Haviland. 

Up  to  Monday  the  29th  of  April,  when  the  Zouaves  left 
New  York — though  a  part  of  the  time  absent  from  the  store 
of  his  employers,  Burtnett  Haviland  had  drawn  his  salary 
and  applied  it  to  the  use  of  his  family.  After  his  departure, 
the  arrangement  made  by  the  liberality  of  Mr.  Charles  Holt, 
was  that  the  salary  should  still  be  paid  weekly,  as  it  had. 
15 


2  t-2  THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

been  when  the  clerk  war  at  homo  ;  and  as  Mr.  TTolt  could 
always  command  an  errand-boy  If  no  higher  medium  of  com- 
munication; and  as  it-  would  be  not  only  a  Blight  incon- 
venienee    for  Mrs.  Haviland  to   go  or  send  for  the  weekly 

amount,  but  also  a  little  sacrifice  of  independence  to  ask  fo* 
what  was  really  not  earned  and  only  supplied  by  the  kindness 
and  public  spirit  of  an  employer, — it  had  also  been  arranged 
that  the'  money  should  be  sent  up  at  the  close  of  every  week, 
the  wife  receipting  for  it  in  each  instance  or  monthly,  so  as 
to  supply  the  proper  vouchers  for  the  accounts  kept  between 
the  partners.  These  suggestions  had  all  been  made  by  the 
merchant  himself,  and  accepted  by  the  clerk  with  the  thanks 
"which  seemed  to  be  due  to  the  nobility  of  mind  which 
dictated  them.  Though  he  could  not,  with  any  delicacy,  pro- 
pose such  arrangements  himself,  there  had  not  been  any  sense 
of  humiliation  on  the  part  of  Burtnett  Haviland  or  his  wife 
in  falling  into  them,  as  public  spirit  for  the  military  service 
of  the  country  just  at  that  time  ran  so  high  that  scores  and 
perhaps  even  hundreds  of  merchants  felt  that  they  were  doing 
nothing  more  than  their  duty  in  continuing  the  salaries  of  their 
clerks  while  absent,  they  being  themselves  incapacitated  by 
age  or  prevented  by  business  from  joining  the  ranks  of  the 
national  defenders.  It  was  felt,  and  very  properly,  that 
while  the  clerk  underwent  the  fatigue  and  bodily  exposure  of 
the  service,  his  employer  was  very  lightly  sharing  in  the 
onerous  burthen  by  paying  him  his  salary  as  a  sort  of  substi- 
tute. The  merchants  of  Xew  York,  and  of  other  leading 
cities,  reflected  honor  on  themselves  by  pursuing  this  course  ; 
and  the  manly  liberality  of  those  who  made  such  arrange- 
ments and  adhered  to  them  even  when  the  first  heat  of  the 
war-fever  was  over,  cannot  be  affected  by  the  miserable 
u  shoddy'1  meanness  of  many  others  who  stipulated  to  make 
such  payments  to  the  families  of  their  absent  clerks,  repu- 
diated the  arrangement  when  they  were  in  the  service  and 
had  lost  the  power  to  return,  and  literally  left  their  wives 
and  families  to  starve  except  as  relieved  by  the  narrow 
public  bounty.* 

*  This  vu  another  phase  of  the  "shoddy"  which  should  be  unshrinkingly 
exposed,    and    would    be  so    in    this  connection   but  for  the  impossibility  of 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  243 

There  was  another  side  to  this  story,  of  course — a  side 
with  which  private  employers  had  nothing  to  do  and  the 
swindling  propensity  developed  itself  among  those  who  pre- 
tended to  be  serving  the  country.  When  the  regiments  were 
hurriedly  organizing  and  it  seemed  to  be  the  duty  as  well  as 
the  wish  of  every  able-bodied  man  to  join  them  in  some  ca- 
pacity, the  public  councils  and  heads  of  departments  of  many 
of  the  cities  (Xew  York  especially,  again)  announced  that  any 
of  their  subordinate  officers  who  wished  to  enter  the  service, 
would  have  their  places  kept  and  their  salaries  continued 
during  absence.  Some  of  these,  good  fellows,  took  the  offer 
in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it  was  made,  and  went  into  the 
army  to  tight  and  to  return  when  the  fight  was  over.  Too 
many  others  saw  a  fresh  opportunity  for  money-making,  and 
embraced  it.  They  went  into  the  army,  it  is  true,  but  as  or- 
namental officers  who  could  not  and  would  not  have  any  thing 
laborious  or  dangerous  to  do,  drawing  large  salaries  in  such 
situations  and  yet  retaining  their  wrell-paid  positions  at  home, 
double  duty  to  be  meanwhile  discharged  by  the  under-paid 
subordinates  remaining  at  their  posts.  Or  they  took  the  still 
more  profitable  positions  of  commissaries  and  army  contrac- 
tors, absenting  themselves  at  Washington  or  with  the  army 
in  such  very  speculative  "service,"  and  yet  drawing  their 
official  salaries  and  having  the  name  of  being  "  patriots"  who 
had  "  sprung  up  at  the  call  of  duty"  and  "  left  every  thing  for 
the  sake  of  their  country  !"     Has  even  the  "shoddy"  record 


any  thing  more  contemptible  ? 

It  is  already  reasonably  wTell  understood  that  Burtnett  Ha 
viland  had  no  selfish  or  money-making  intentions  when  he  ac- 
cepted his  employer's  offer  and  enrolled  his  name  among  the 
First  Fire  Zouaves.  Let  it  be  equally  well  understood  that 
Charles  Holt  had  no  intention  of  repudiating  his  promise  to 
pay  his  salary  and  to  "  provide  for  his  family"  during  his  ab 

gathering  up  the  names  now  forg<dten.  Obligations  to  employers  living  i.r 
dead  were  repudiated,  in  hundreds  of  cases,  and  many  of  those  eases  crept 
into  the  law  courts,  from  which  the  ^rca'-grand-children  of  the  claimant? 
may  possibly  recover  something.  In  many  cases  this  most  execrable  mean- 
ness was  successful,  the  oath  of  the  employer  that  he  "  never  promised  any 
thing  of  the  kind"  being  conclusive  against  the  claim  when  the  claimant 
was  dead  or  absent  and  there  was  no  '•  black  and  white"  to  support  it. 


2-i-i  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

sence.  If  there  was  any  danger  whatever,  it  was  that  he 
might  "  provide,'  for  them  too  well  1     Punctuality  was  among 

the  merchant's  leading  virtues.  The  regiment  had  gdne  awav 
on  Monday,  and  a  week's  salary  was  due  on  the  Monday  fol- 
lowing. That  very  evening  he  presented  himself  at  the  house 
on  East  Forty-eighth  Street,  to  perform  the  noble  duty  of 
Lord  Almoner  in  person  instead  of  entrusting  it  to  a  rah  re 
subordinate.  Of  course  this  was  delicacy — pure  delicacy. 
"Who  could  say  that  the  mere  subordinate  might  not  rush 
roughly  in,  throw  down  the  stipend  with  a  coarse  :  "  Here's 
your  money,  Ma'am  !''  as  if  she  had  been  a  pauper  on  the 
town,  and  rush  out  again  as  roughly  ? — while  he  could  hand 
over  that  money  with  the  delicacy  of  a  true  gentleman  and 
such  courtesy  that  the  taking  of  it  might  seem  to  be  a  favor 
conferred  upon  him  instead  of  the  opposite.  Pure  delicacy — 
we  say  again.  By-and-bye,  when  the  situation  had  grown 
to  be  a  more  accustomed  one  and  less  danger  of  lacerated 
feeling  would  be  involved,  the  subordinate,  even  the  errand- 
boy,  might  be  trusted  :  not  now.  So  the  merchant  made  the 
personal  visit  indicated. 

There  are  few  prettier  human  pictures  to  be  found  in  a  long 
search,  than  Mary  Haviland  presented  as  she  herself  answered 
the  bell  at  the  summons  of  the  merchant,  and  stood  in  the 
doorway  inviting  him  to  enter.  It  was  past  dusk,  and  the 
light  of  the  lamp  in  the  lower  hall  shone  like  a  glory  full  upon 
her  blonde  hair  and  threw  her  neat  and  compact  figure  into 
the  most  admirable  and  rounded  relief.  Then  the  hand  that 
she  extended  in  welcome  when  she  recognized  her  husband's 
kind  friend  and  employer,  was  so  creamy  white  and  so  tape*, 
and  it  was  given  with  such  evident  warmth  and  good  feeling, 
that  had  the  merchant  not  been  beyond  a  new  incitement  in 
that  direction,  one  might  easily  have  been  created  by  the 
proximity. 

"  I  am  verv  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  ITolt.  How  kind  you  are 
to  come  I"  said  the  guileless  wife,  merely  thinking  of  the  call 
ts  one  of  personal  friendship.  But  in  an  instant  she  remem- 
bered that  the  call  might  have  a  pecuniary  motive,  and  that 
her  words  of  gladness  might  be  supposed  to  refer  to  that. 
Wheieupon  she  wished,  for  a  moment,  that  there  was  no  such 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  245 

thinp:  as  money  in  the  world,  or  that  her  own  tongue  was 
better  regulated,  and  blushed  a  dear  little  faint  roseate  blush 
that  just  tinted  her  forehead  and  cheeks  and  made  her  ten 
times  handsomer  than  ever.  But  the  tongue  had  other  offices, 
it  fulfilled  them,  and  by  the  time  the  little  blush  had  fairly 
died  away,  the  merchant  had  accepted  her  invitation  and 
followed  her  up  the  stair  to  the  little  front  parlor.  In  another 
moment  the  chandelier  was  lighted,  and  the  two  were  seated 
in  conversation,  with  the  apparent  freedom  from  restraint  of 
very  old  friends. 

Mr.  Charles  Holt,  merchant,  was  an  incarnate  man  of  the 
world,  all  the  keenest  and  worst  senses  of  that  phrase  being 
embodied  in  his  description.  Xot  a  wise  man,  for  no  scoun- 
drel is  truly  wise,  even  the  wisdom  of  this  world  being  alone 
taken  into  the  calculation, — but  a  keen  and  subtle  one,  those 
qualities  sometimes  supplying  the  place  of  the  nobler  with 
very  good  effect.  He  had  been  educated  in  nearly  every 
school,  from  the  college  to  the  casino,  from  the  banking-house 
to  the  bagnio.  He  had  as  many  faces  as  any  Hindu  god  in 
the  whole  Brahminical  calendar — each  one  as  sharp  and  clear 
cut  as  one  of  the  facets  of  a  diamond.  Unfortunately,  in 
this  relation,  we  have  seldom  occasion  to  see  more  than  two 
facets,  the  defiant  and  the  villainous.  Meeting  three  different 
strangers  within  a  given  ten  minutes,  the  chances  were  that 
he  would  find  occasion  to  present  a  different  face  to  each,  and 
that  the  impressions  formed  of  him  by  each  would  be  so 
different  that  a  fight  could  easily  be  engineered  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  the  gold  and  silver  sides  of  the  same  shield.  Perhaps 
he  cared  as  little  for  literature,  per  se,  as  any  man  of  the  age ; 
and  yet  he  could  read  Byron  with  force  and  propriety,  and 
make  any  new  acquaintance  believe,  within  five  minutes,  that 
he  was  a  devoted  lover  of  the  poetical  and  the  tender,  with- 
out one  grain  of  the  hard  or  the  practical  in  his  disposition. 
lb-  was  not  scrupulously  moral  (this  may  have  been  indicated 
before),  and  yel  lie  could  and  would  preaeb  such  a  Puritani- 
cal sermon  when  occasion  required,  that  old  Plymouth  Rock- 
would  almost  have  tingled  with  delight  to  hear  him.  His 
attachment  to  the  marriage  bond  was  not  such  as  to  make  him 
loae  his  nightly  rest  in  grieving  over  the  numerous  infractions 


24:6  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

of  that  sacred  tie  constantly  supposed  to  be  occurring  (this,  too, 
may  have  been  before  indicated  ;  and  yet  he  could  so  inveigh 
against  Free  Love  and  Mormonism  that  neither  Stephen 
Pearl  Andrews  nor  Orson  Hyde  would  have  allowed  him 
within  ten  miles  of  their  supposed-to-be-different-but-really- 
similar  conventicles.  Given  live  minutes  for  a  change  of 
auditors  and  motive,  and  he  could  and  would  take  the  very 
reverse  on  any  one  of  these  subjects  or  any  one  of  an  hundred 
others.  He  was,  in  short,  "all  things  to  all  men" — a  man  of 
great  versatility  and  power,  with  strong  enterprise  and  won- 
derful ability  of  acquiring,  retaining  and  managing  wealth, 
with  insatiable  and  most  unscrupulous  appetites — a  bold,  bad, 
dangerous  man,  and  yet  with  something  shining  through  all, 
which  indicated  that  he  had  at  some  time  in  life  received 
some  hard  blow  from  the  world  and  was  taking  a  Luciferian 
delight  in  achieving  those  revenges  which  are  all  that  remain 
to  the  lost  spirit. 

If  there  was  any  one  science  that  Charles  Holt  had  tho- 
roughly mastered,  it  was  that  of  approach,  just  as  the  French 
Emperor  has  made  it  his  speciality  to  learn  to  wait.  He 
never  approached  people  in  that  way  so  graphically  described 
by  some  of  the  rough-talkers — "wrong  end  foremost."  He 
was  generally  unerring  in  his  judgment  of  time  and  place, 
and  would  no  more  have  thought  of  approaching  a  widow  at 
the  grave-yard,  before  she  had  returned  from  the  funeral  of 
her  husband,  than  a  bride  only  two  days  after  marriage  or  an 
outraged  wife  at  the  moment  when  she  was  smarting  under 
fierce  jealousy  of  her  husband.*  He  would  no  more  have 
dreamed  of  hinting  at  improper  personal  regard  for  Mary  Ha- 
viland,  before  creeping  into  her  confidence  by  initial  steps, 
than  he  would  of  sawing  off  his  own  head,  a  la  "  Richard  No. 
3"  o,f  the  old  Mitchell's  Olympic  days.  He  had  one  unfailing 
mode  of  approach,  and  he  knew  it  and  intended  to  practice  it. 
Apart  from  any  personal  experience  in  that  direction,  he  had 
read  "  Xever  Too  Late  to  Mend,"  and  knew  why  Susan  Mer- 
toji  tolerated  Meadows'  company  when  poor  George  Fielding 


*  Late  Novels. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  247 

was  away  in  Australia.  Ilis  first  approach  was  to  speak  to 
her  of  Jut  husband, 

This  he  did,  on  the  evening  in  question,  with  the  apparent 
warmth  of  a  true  friend  and  the  admiration  of  a  brother  pa- 
triot. He  spoke  of  his  business  talents,  the  loss  to  the  force 
at  the  store  which  he  was  found  to  be,  the  pity  that  he  should 
be  called  away,  his  noble  spirit  in  espousing  his  country's 
cause,  and  the  loneliness  which  the  wife  must  feel  during  his 
absence.  In  ten  minutes  he  had  won  poor  little  Mary  Havi- 
land's  heart  even  more  than  before  (won  it,  of  course,  in  that 
inoffensive  sense  which  allowed  no  thought  of  coldness  or  dis- 
loyalty to  her  husband)  ;  and  when,  half  an  hour  later  and 
after  picking  up  a  book  from  the  table  and  reading  two  or 
three  of  Whittier's  poems  with  excellent  intonation  and  feel- 
ing, and  after  performing  the  pecuniary  portion  of  his  errand 
with  such  tact  that  it  merely  seemed  to  be  one  of  the  high- 
bred courtesies  of  a  society  something  above  her  own when 

all  this  had  been  done  and  the  merchant  rose  to  go  away,  it 
was  no  marvel  whatever  that  the  young  wife  accompanied 
him  to  the  door  with  undisguised  pleasure  at  the  visit  beam- 
ing upon  her  face,— and  that  when  he  took  her  soft  little  hand 
in  his  own  daintily-gloved  palm  at  parting,  and  held  it  for  the 
just  one  instant  longer  than  strict  propriety  would  have  al- 
lowed, she  neither  frowned,  uttered  any  petulant  remark,  nor 
jerked  it  away. 

Mary  Haviland  returned  up-stairs  less  lonely  than  she  had 
been  since  the  departure  of  her  husband,  and  very  much 
pleased— very  much  indeed— with  her  late  visitor  and  the 
chance  which  had  thrown  around  her,  to  some  extent,  the 
protecting  care  of  so  noble  a  man  and  so  true  a  friend  of 
Burtnett  Haviland  as  his  employer  ! 

Charles  Holt,  merchant,  stepped  briskly  towards  the  Third 
Avenue  and  across  to  the  Fifth  before  taking  his  course  down- 
town, rubbing  his  hands  meanwhile  and  more  than  once  clap- 
ping them  together  as  if  patting  applause  to  some  capital 
actor  who  had  just  made  an  excellent  pokit.  He  was  ap- 
plauding a  capital  actor— himself ;  and  he  believed  that  he 
had  made  an  excellent  point  in  the  impression  created  by  his 
personal  manners  on  the  wife  of  his  clerk,  and  the  assurance 


248  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

he  had  given  her  that  he  was  the  true  and  warm  friend  of  her 
husband  !  So  far,  so  good  ;  indeed,  very  good  :  the  rest  would 
come  in  due  time. 

Yet  what  would  he  not  have  given,  he  thought,  to  be  able 
to  follow  up  that  impression  before  it  had  time  to  cool  !  This 
could  not  be,  fur  under  no  circumstances  could  he  find  an  ex- 
cuse for  visiting  the  little  house  on  East  Forty-eighth  Street 
before  the  next  Monday,  and  meanwhile  he  must  fret — yes, 
fret  and  burn,  under  the  consciousness  of  time  wasted. 

But  there  are  unquestionably  ministering  spirits  watching 
over  the  evil  as  well  as  the  good,  and  affording  opportunities 
to  the  one  as  well  as  the  other.  Less  than  forty  hours  after, 
and  when  this  thought  was  yet  fresh  in  his  mind,  he  had  oc- 
casion to  pull  open  a  drawer  in  the  counting-room  to  which 
any  of  the  senior  clerks  had  access  ;  and  he  chanced  upon  a 
perfect  placer  of  valuables — for  him.  Xothing  that  would 
have  brought  fifty  cents  if  offered  at  auction,  and  yet  at  the 
moment  of  the  discovery  the  merchant  felt  that  they  enriched 
him  more  than  a  contract  to  supply  rotten  satinet  or  sleezy 
cloth  for  clothing  for  ten  regiments,  could  have  done.  A 
little  memorandum-book,  bearing  the  name  of  Burtnett  Havi- 
land  and  partially  filled  with  private  notes  in  pencil ;  a  white 
silk  handkerchief  marked  with  his  initials  ;  a  volume  of  Gerald 
Massey,  with  his  name  on  the  fly  leaf;  and  last  of  all  but 
more  than  all,  an  old  but  excellent  little  ambrotype  of  Mary 
Haviland,  in  a  morocco  case  stamped  with  her  name.  Here 
was  a  placer,  indeed — and  all  his  own.  The  ambrotype  was 
a  charming  one,  the  soft  rounded  features  and  blonde  hair 
having  taken  well  in  it,  as  they  oftener  do  in  that  description 
of  picture  than  any  other,  and  the  dust  upon  the  case  indi- 
cating that  it  must  have  lain  in  the  drawer  for  a  considerable 
period  and  been  forgotten.  That  he  would  keep,  at  all  haz- 
ards, and  feed  the  fire  in  his  blood  by  gazing  upon  the  sweet 
face  at  his  leisure.  As  for  the  memorandum-book,  the  hand- 
kerchief and  the  volume  of  poems — they  would  furnish  him 
the  very  excuse  that  he  coveted,  for  "dropping  in"  again  at 
the  house  of  the  original,  at  once,  and  with  the  opportunity 
of  creating  a  deeper  impression  of  his  care  and  anxiety  for 
her  \\euare,  instead  of  any  danger  of  awakening  suspicion. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  249 

This  programme  was  strictly  carried  out.  The  evening 
of  that  day  Baw  the  merchant  again  at  the  house  on  Bast 
Forty-eighth  Street,  and  once  more  in  tho  presence  of  its 
young  mistress.  He  found  the  gratitude  he  had  expected, 
for  the  restoration  of  tho  handkerchief  and  the  memorandum- 
book,  which  however  seemed  to  he  valued  only  (lie  was 
oWiged  to  note)  because  they  furnished  additional  reminders 
of  the  absent  husband  ;  and  if  he  had  a  momentary  pang  at 
seeing  the  young  wife  furtively  convey  to  her  lips  the 
book  that  contained  his  hand-writing,  he  was  consoled  by  the 
fact  that  she  did  not  ask  after  the  ambrotype  and  evidently 
did  not  know  or  had  forgotten  its  having  been  in  her  bus- 
Viand's  possession.  With  reference  to  the  kissing  of  the 
book,  it  is  only  justice  to  Charles  Holt  to  say  that  he  was 
rather  prepared  for  than  surprised  at  that  manifestation.  If 
husbands  cannot  prevent  little  infringements  on  their  marital 
rights  by  wide-awake  and  unscrupulous  men  of  the  world, 
those  men  of  the  world,  constituting  themselves  lovers,  are 
sometimes  obliged  to  witness  very  painful  indications  of  at- 
tachment in  tho  wives  towards  their  husbands,  by  which 
they,  the  lovers,  are  defrauded,  but  to  which  they  have 
never  yet  been  able  to  establish  a  formula  of  objection. 
This  Charles  Holt  knew  by  sad  experience,  and  being  pre- 
pared to  make  due  allowance  he  did  not  suffer  so  much 
from  the  yet  existing  attachment  of  Mary  Haviland  to  her 
husband,  shown  by  the  pressure  of  her  lips  to  the  memoran- 
dum-book, as  he  might  have  done  had  he  never  before  seen 
such  a  proof  of  weakness. 

This  time,  as  the  visit  was  somewhat  early  and  the  spirit 
of  sleep  had  not  yet  sealed  up  the  eyes  of  that  young  person, 
Pet  came  into  the  arena  and  furnished  the  merchant  with 
another  instrumentality  for  ingratiating  himself  into  the  good 
graces  of  the  mother.  He  took  the  swTeet  little  child  Upon 
his  knee,  talked  baby-talk  to  her  that  seemed  to  come  with  a 
strange  grace  from  Lips  that  could  be  so  severe,  ran  his  lingers 
through  her  clustering  curls  ami  remarked  (with  a  long  look 
of  admiration  at  the  latter  which  he  would  not  have  cared  to 
hazard  without  that  excuse)  that  her  hair  was  a  shade  darker 
than  her  mother's,  but  would  scarcely  be  so  silkily  beautiful 


250  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

as  hers  when  she  grew  up;  then  kissed  her  with  much 
fatherly  kindness  and  a  aide-glance  which  might  have 
to  a  wiser  than  Mary  llaviland  that  he  would  have  preferred 
to  kiss  older  and  riper  lips  instead,  and  finally  yielded  her  to 
fcfarah  Sanderson  and  Morpheus  with  a  tenderness  which 
conveyed  to  the  flattered  mother:  "How  blessed  should  I 
be  if  /  had  such  a  child  !" 

Then  his  powers  of  reading  came  again  into  play — not  as 
if  he  had  any  intention  of  "  showing  them  off,''  but  as  if  he 
read  in  the  same  unstudied  way  as  the  birds  sing.  llaviland, 
a  lover  of  the  wierdly  beautiful,  had  Pracd  in  his  little  book- 
case, and  his  unsuspected  guest  read  the  "  Bridal  of  Belmont" 
and  the  "  Legend  of  the  Haunted  Tree"  so  pleasantly  and 
naturally  that  the  young  hostess,  as  she  pursued  with  her 
lingers  the  sawing  which  she  could  not  quite  forego  even 
fur  so  honored  a  visitor,  found  herself  borne  insensibly  back 
to  the  times  when  belted  knights  and  noble  ladies  rode 
through  the  English  greenwood,  and  when  there  was  yet 
life  and  revelry  in  the  grim  old  castles  that  now  frown  down 
on  the  Rhine  tourist. 

And  when  he  laid  by  the  book  with  an  audible  sigh, 
glanced  at  his  watch  and  arose  to  go,  with  a  look  which  said  : 
"  I  have  been  so  many  minutes  in  Paradise  :  now  for  so  many 
hours  of  banishment !"  was  there  not  an  answering  sigh  in 
the  breast  of  the  young  wife,  and  did  she  not  feel  that  by 
some  pleasant  chance  a  member  of  society  higher  than  her 
own,  of  experience  wider  and  views  of  the  world  more  com- 
prehensive, had  suddenly  been  thrown  into  the  current  of  her 
life,  at  the  moment  when  she  would  otherwise  have  been  so 
lonely  without  that  accident, — and  that  she  was  very  happy 
in  his  society  ?  It  is  almost  certain  that  this  question  must 
be  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

And  had  the  young  wife,  only  a  few  days  parted  from  her 
husband,  already  forgotten  him  or  learned  to  undervalue  him  ? 
And  was  there  an  answering  throb  in  her  heart  to  the  evil 
passions  surging  up  within  the  breast  of  the  libertine  mer- 
chant ?  No  ! — a  thousand  times  No  !  to  each  of  these  ques- 
tions. Not  one  clinging  tendril  of  her  love  had  fallen  away 
from  her  husband  :  not  one  impure  thought  had  crossed  her 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  251 

mind  or  could  cross  her  mind  without  being  shuddered  at  and 
started  from  like  a  horrid  reptile  meeting  her  in  some  summer 
path.  Her  tempter  had  yet  to  learn,  perchance,  the  wide  dif- 
ference between  merely  dazzling  the  fancy  of  a  true  woman, 
and  touching  her  heart  or  poisoning  the  fountain  of  her  truth. 
Perchance,  we  say:  let  the  result  be  duly  waited  for.  And 
meanwhile  let  all  remember  that  these  distinctions,  though 
positive,  are  narrow,  and  that  there  is  a  road  to  the  heart 
and  the  life,  through  the  fancy,  which  sometimes  betrays  and 
often  endangers. 

When  Charles  Holt,  again  ushered  to  the  door  by  the 
young  hostess,  and  again  holding  that  soft  little  hand  in  his 
own  for  a  single  instant  as  he  took  it,  left  the  house  on  that 
second  evening,  the  insatiate  devil  within  him  raged  fiercely 
and  triumphantly.  His  keen  eyes  saw  how  the  glamour  had 
fallen  over  the  eyes  of  the  wife,  wThile  they  could  not  see  the 
purity  and  truth  that  lay  as  a  reserved  force  at  the  bottom 
of  her  character.  He  should  triumph — he  knew  that  -he 
should  triumph — much  more  quickly  than  he  had  ever  be- 
lieved ;  and  then — the  future  must  take  care  of  itself,  and 
he  had  wealth,  power  and  will  to  mould  even  human  hates 
and  revenges  to  his  own  purpose. 

When  Charles  Holt  left  the  house  that  evening,  the  youug 
wife,  except  that  she  felt  herself  even  more  than  before 
pleased  with  his  company  and  conversation,  did  not  realize 
that  any  change  had  taken  place  in  her  own  position  towards 
her  husband  or  the  world.  And  yet  a  marked  change  had  taken 
place,  the  after  results  of  which  were  to  be  of  the  most  pain- 
ful and  almost  irretrievable  character.  Mary  Haviland  might 
have  realized  the  fact,  had  she  known  the  real  composition 
of  her  own  household ;  but  of  this,  as  we  have  before  seen, 
she  could  have  no  idea.  Sarah  Sanderson  was  to  her  a  mere 
bumble  companion  and  "help1':  she  was  very  nearly  or  quite 
to  be  her /ate. 

Like-  attracts  like  with  wonderful  certainty  and  celerity- 
tin-  remark  is  a  truism.  Evil  is  especially  cognizant  of  evil. 
What  the  pure  eves  of  the  young  wife  could  not  sec,  tho 
jealous  and  jaundiced  orbs  of  Sarah  Sanderson  saw  without 
an  effort.     A  strange  mixture  of  weakness  and  wickedness, 


252  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

with  only  possibilities  of  goodness, — she  bad  yet  strength  in 

her  passions  and   in  the  powers  of  observation  which  they 
deced.     She  had  seen,  even  through  the  narrow  door- 
way, on  the  first  evening,  how  the  face  of  the  merchant  was 

all  smooth  and  gentlemanly  decorum  without,  all  tierce  and 
reckless  passion  below  the  surface.  She  had  seen,  too,  how  the 
young  wife  received  his  attentions  with  more  sincere  pleasure 
t huii  she  had  ever  before  shown  in  the  presence  of  any  one 
except  her  husband.  Then  had  occurred  the  second  meeting, 
and  on  one  pretext  and  another  the  young  girl  had  passed  in 
and  out,  overheard  snatches  of  the  conversation,  and  seen 
how  the  eyes  of  the  wife  showed  even  more  pleasure  than  be- 
fore and  how  the  face  of  the  visitor  shone  with  yet  more 
terribly  concentrated  passion  through  his  mask.  And  then 
had  arisen  the  thought — it  was  her  time  ! — the  opportunity 
of  her  life  had  come  -! 

It  is  no  secret,  with  what  an  unreasonable  and  hopeless 
affection  the  young  girl  had  for  years  regarded  Burtnett 
Haviland,  nor  how,  living  in  the  same  house  with  himself 
and  his  wife,  she  had  weakly  and  without  purpose  hated  the 
latter.  Here  came  the  purpose  with  the  opportunity,  full- 
born  from  her  brain  at  once,  albeit  probably  she  had  never 
heard  of  Minerva  or  the  Jovian  plan  of  reproduction.  Here 
was  a  proud  and  powerful  man,  who  would  become  the  lover 
of  the  wife  if  possible.  If  he  could  do  so,  then  would  she  be 
lost  to  the  husband  forever;  for  Haviland  was  not  the  man, 
as  she  well  knew,  to  brook  infidelity  of  the  heart  more  than 
that  of  the  body.  Then  would  he  be  free,  or  at  least  there 
would  stand  no  one  between  him  and  herself.  But  suppose 
the  wife  should  resist — what  then  ?  Then  all  would  remain 
as  before,  and  she  would  be  still  an  outcast.  Xo — here  came 
another  thought  into  the  warped  and  perverted  mind — why 
should  she  be  ?  Suppose  that  the  wife  should  remain  pure 
and  loyal,  would  it  not  serve  every  purpose  if  the  husband 
could  be  brought  to  believe  her  false  and  so  induced  to  cast 
her  off  forever  r  The  ground  for  suspicion  once  given  in  the 
visits  of  the  merchant,  it  would  be  strange  if  she  could  not 
play  into  his  hands  to  effect  the  absolute  ruin  of  the  woman 
she   hated,  or   at   least   manage   to  destroy  her   by  weaving 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  253 

around  her  the  appearances  of  guilt.  From  that  moment  the 
latent  malice  became  the  active  and  the  practical;  and  in  that 
change  what  a  perilous  net  became  woven  around  the  feet  of 
Mary  I  la  vi land  ! 

The  Monday  evening  following,  when  the  next  week's 
salary  was  due  the  family  of  the  absent  soldier,  brought  the 
third  visit  of  the  merchant,  who,  if  he  held  out  as  he  began, 
was  not  at  all  likely  to  need  the  aid  of  any  errand-boy  in 
transacting  his  business  in  that  particular  section  of  the  town. 
This  time  the  fates  favored  him  in  another  special  regard. 
"When  he  reached  the  house  he  was  admitted  by  Sarah  in- 
stead of  the  hostess,  and  he  found  the  latter  absent  and  not 
yet  to  return  for  half  an  hour.  Through  the  door  between 
the  two  rooms  he  saw  that  the  supper  table  wTas  in  readiness 
and  little  Pet  playing  on  the  floor  with  a  pussy  nearly  as  large 
as  herself.  He  took  his  seat  in  the  front  room,  the  girl 
lighted  the  gas  and  when  she  had  done  so  went  back  to  her 
employment  in  the  dining-room.  The  merchant  trifled  with 
a  book,  called  the  child,  who  did  not  seem  disposed  to  desert 
the  cat  for  his  company,  and  eventually  called  the  girl  her- 
self, who  obeyed  the  summons  with  great  alacrity.  He  had 
just  thought  of  something  that  might  be  of  importance,  and 
the  absence  of  Mrs.  Haviland  afforded  him  an  excellent  op- 
portunity to  put  his  thought  into  practice.  Who  could  tell 
that  he  might  not  need  the  co-operation  of  the  servant,  who 
was,  as  his  eyes  had  told  him  the  first  time  he  looked  at  her 
attentively,  pretty,  vain  and  not  too  scrupulous?  An  ally  is 
a  good  thing  to  have  in  any  house  where  an  important  opera- 
tion is  to  be  performed  ;  and  people  whose  God  is  Success 
instead  of  Right  do  not  always  keep  close  hold  of  that  rule 
which  forbids  to  "speak  of  things  in  the  kitchen  that  are  for- 
bidden in  the  parlor."  So  the  merchant  called  Mary  Havi- 
land*s  i,help/'  and  she  came  at  once. 

"  Your  name  is  Sarah,  is  it  not  ?"  asked  the  merchant. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  girl,  with  a  not  ungraceful  attempt 
at  a  courtesy — "  Sarah  Sanderson." 

"  A  pretty  name  enough,"  said  Charles  Holt,  who  really 
thought  it  a  most  detestable  alliterative  combination.  u  And 
you  are  i  pretty  girl,  Sarah  !     Do  you  know  it  ?" 


254  THE      DAYS      OF      S  II  1 1  1 1  I>  Y . 

The  young  girl  might  have  answered  with  all  propriety  that 
Bhe  did  know  the  fact,  quite  as  well  as  any  person  eouM  in- 
form her ;  but  she  merely  blushed  a  very  little,  and  replied  : 
"  You  are  very  good,  sir,  to  say  so." 

"  Yes,  very  pretty  indeed,  Sarah,"  continued  the  tempter, 
who  saw  that  his  compliments  were  by  no  means  displeasing, 
and  realized  better  than  before  that  the  girl  was  as  proud  as 
Lucifer.  "  You  ought  to  be  mistress  of  a  nice  little  house, 
insi cad  of  working  in  one  !     Don't  you  think  so  ?" 

She  had  thought  so,  many  a  time,  and  in  fact  all  the  time 
when  she  thought  on  the  subject  at  all  ;  bat  this  was  putting 
the  matter  a  little  bluntly,  and  she  merely  replied,  in  a  tone 
which  showed  that  she  was  really  not  very  doubtful  about  the 
matter  : 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  I  am  sure." 

Flatteiy,  the  first  of  evil  agencies,  having  now  done  its 
work,  the  man  of  the  world  considered  it  time  that  he  should 
employ  the  second — bribery.  He  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket,  and  carelessly  drew  out  a  well-tilled  purse. 

"They  don't  pay  you  very  well  here,  do  they,  Sarah  ?" 

"  Not  very  well,  sir — only  two  dollars  a  week,"  said  the 
girl,  who  had  always  managed  to  spend  all  her  wages  in  cheap 
finery,  and  who  had  consequently  always  been  a  little  dissat- 
isfied with  the  amount  of  her  earnings. 

"A  mere  trifle — nothing  for  you!v  said  the  merchant. 
"Why,  it  cannot  even  keep  you  inclothes.  Y/ou  seem  to  me 
to  be  a  very  good  girl,  Sarah,  and  I  like  you.  Perhaps  I  may 
have  it  in  my  power,  one  day,  to  do  something  for  you — get 
you  a  nice  beau,  or  something  else  you  will  like  as  well. 
Meanwhile,  you  may  want  a  new  dress.  You  have  had  the 
trouble  of  opening  the  door  for  me  to-night,  and  you  may 
need  to  do  so  at  other  times.  Here  is  a  trifle  for  you — put  it 
into  your  pocket,  and  you  need  not  mention  it  to  your  mis- 
tress. If  you  are  a  very  good  girl,  I  shall  have  another  to 
spare  for  you  one  of  these  days." 

A  trifle  ?  It  was  a  bright  double-eagle  that  he  put  into 
Sarah  Sanderson's  palm,  and  that  she,  after  a  single  instant 
of  wondering  hesitation,  dropped  into  her  pocket.  How  big 
and  bright  it  looked  to  her  eyes,  and  how  big  and  bright,  too, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  255 

to  the  eyes  of  Tot  Louise,  who  had  followed  tho  truant  prat 
into  the  room  and  was  very  near  when  that  unexpected  dou- 
ceur astonished  and  delighted  the  receiver. 

How  many  thanks,  and  of  what  description,  the  young  girl 
might  have  repaid  the  merchant  for  his  gift,  is  among  the 
mysteries  foredoomed  to  meet  no  solution.  If  there  had  been 
a  iv  part  <>f  Sarah  Sanderson  before  left  in  the  service  of  the 
Havilands,  there  was  nothing  left  after  the  flight  of  the 
doable-eagle  from  the  purse  of  the  tempter  to  her  pocket.  It 
I)  night  her,  body  and  soul.  She  understood,  intuitively,  that 
some  service  would  be  required  of  her,  which  would  have 
been  differently  bargained  for  if  entirely  correct;  but  what- 
ever it  might  be,  she  was  quite  ready  to  render  it. 

It  was  the  coming  home  of  Mary  Haviland,  which  prevented 
any  further  conference  between  the  pair  of  oddly-matched 
conspirators  and  left  the  reply  of  the  "help"  in  doubt.  She 
came  in  with  her  own  pass-key,  very  quietly  ;  and  had  she 
arrived  but  the  moment  before,  she  might  have  happened 
upon  the  very  instructive  spectacle  of  her  accommodating 
paymaster  chatting  with  and  bribing  her  servant.  As  it  was, 
she  saw  nothing  and  suspected  nothing.  The  merchant  met 
her  with  great  empressement  as  well  as  great  respect,  and 
with  a  repetition  of  that  manner  which  said  that  he  was  again 
temporarily  coming  into  a  paradise  of  happiness,  just  as  he 
had  before  made  signal  his  sense  of  departure  from  it.  The 
young  wife  was  again  pleased  to  see  him,  warmry  took  the 
hand  he  extended,  and  made  no  secret  that  she  was  flattered 
by  this  third  visit  within  eight  days.  Supper  was  waiting 
her — an  humble  supper,  but  such  as  their  circumstances  per- 
mitted :  would  he  join  her  ?  He  did  join  her,  after  she  had 
for  just  one  moment  bustled  about  as  all  housewives  will  do 
when  they  have  unexpected  company  at  a  meal ;  and  he 
seemed  to  drink  the  tea  she  poured  him,  with  a  relish,  and  to 
eat  with  the  appreciation  of  a  true  gourmand  the  flaky  tea- 
biscuit  that  she  had  moulded  with  her  own  fair  hands  and  set 
into  the  oven  of  the  little  range  before  going  out,  Here  was 
another  quiet  and  delicate  compliment  paid  her:  ami  when 
Charles  Holt  said  with  an  air  of  very  grave  truth  and  feeling, 


256  THE      DAYS      OF      SIIODBY. 

that  "he  Lad  not  so  enjoyed  any  meal  in  a  twelve-month," 
shr  believed  him  and  appreciated  his  taste. 

There  was   one  momentary  awkardoeaa  daring  the  meal, 
which  might  have  grown  into  a  still  greater  one  hut  for  skill 

and  readiness  in  averting  the  danger.  Little  Pet,  not  yet 
being  asleep,  was  taken  up  by  the  mother  after  the  tea 
had  been  poured,  and  passed  the  balance  of  the  meal  on 
her  lap,  adding  materially  to  the  charm  of  the  picture  at 
which  the  merchant  gazed  from  the  other  side  of  the  little 
table.  Suddenly,  in  a  moment  of  silence  between  the  elder 
people,  that  very  young  person  remembered  a  historical 
incident  of  her  long  experience,  and  felt  disposed  to  com- 
municate it. 

"  Big  man  gived  Sary  big  purty  yellow  money  !" — such  was 
her  version  of  the  event  which  had  occurred  in  the  other  room 
while  she  was  experimenting  upon  the  cat,  and  which  neither 
of  the  operators  had  thought  it  necessary  to  conceal  from 
her.  The  effect  of  the  remark  was  for  the  moment  very  like 
that  supposed  to  be  produced  by  one  of  Gilmore's  "  Swamp- 
Angela"  when  it  first  dropped  a  four-mile  shell  into  the  cradle 
of  the  rebellion.  Though  very  feebly  propelled,  it  was  a 
shell  of  no  ordinary  danger.  The  merchant  had  his  see. aid 
cup  of  hot  tea  at  his  lips,  and  came  near  dropping  it.  He  did 
not  drop  it,  however,  and  if  he  colored  the  gas-light  was  not 
favorable  for  the  exhibition.  Miss  Sarah  Sanderson,  who 
stood  in  waiting  by  the  mantel,  was  fortunately  behind  her 
mistress,  and  her  momentary  flush  of  shame,  succeeded  by  a 
deadly  pallor  of  fright,  could  not  be  seen  by  the  person  most 
interested.  Had  the  eyes  of  the  hostess  rested  upon  her, 
instead  of  upon  the  trained  features  of  the  merchant,  the 
confusion  would  certainly  have  been  observed  and  the  endan- 
gered bird  had  some  warning  before  the  snare  closed  about 
her.  All  this  was  the  work  of  an  instant,  however.  The 
merchant  came  to  the  relief  of  the  new  "  firm,"  the  moment 
he  could  set  down  his  cup,  with  : 

"  You  shouldn't  tell  tales  out  of  school,  little  dear  !  Who 
would  believe  it,  Mrs.  Haviland  ? — I  dropped  a  quarter  into 
your  girl's  hand  for  taking  the  trouble  to  admit  me,  and  the 
little  darling  appears  to  have  noticed  even  that  V* 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHOPPY 


:•>» 


"  'Es  !     Sary,  et  itty  Pot  Bee  purty  }Tellow  money." 

Here  might  have  been  another  awkwardness,  for  Miss 
Sarah  unquestionably  had  the  contraband  gold  still  in  her 
pocket,  and  quite  aa  unquestionably  had  no  quarter  of  a  dollar 
to  substitute  for  it,  even  if  she  had  sufficient  readiness.  But 
the  merchant  was  by  that  time  fully  on  his  guard,  and  col- 
lected enough  to  have  played  for  his  life,  much  more  for 
his  success  against  the  unfortunate  tongue  of  a  "  three-year- 
old." 

"  Xo,  little  Pet,  see  here  ! — here  is  something  prettier  than 
any  thing  that  Sarah  has  got  I"  His  hand  went  into  his 
Rpcket,  there  was  the  jingling  of  coin,  and  it  came  out  again, 
the  instant  after,  with  a  half-eagle  in  the  fingers. 

"  Pray  do  not,  Mr.  Holt  I"  said  the  mother,  deprccatingly, 
seeing  at  least  a  part  of  the  intention. 

''  Oh,  pray  let  me  have  my  own  way,  madam,  with  the 
little  folks  I"  said  the  merchant.  "  Here,  Miss  Sarah,  if  that 
is  your  name,"  (the  "Miss"  and  the  "if  that  is  your  name" 
were  well  put,  in  that  connection) — "be  good  enough  to  hand 
me  a  pair  of  stout  scissors  and  to  give  me  a  piece  of  ribbon 
or  tape." 

The  mother  said  no  more  ;  both  requests  were  complied 
with  by  Sarah ;  and  in  a  moment  or  two  the  merchant  had 
artistically  drilled  a  hole  through  one  edge  of  the  gold  piece 
with  the  sharp  point  of  the  scissors,  inserted  the  narrow  blue 
ribbon  given  him,  handed  it  over  to  be  hung  around  Pet's 
neck,  and  the  little  child  was  admiring  the  brightness  of  the 
yellow  coin  and  had  forgotten  that  any  one  else  in  the  world 
had  "  purty  money."     The  danger  was  arrested. 

"  Rather  a  neat  operation,  that !"  said  Charles  Holt  to  him- 
self, as  he  buttered  another  biscuit  after  the  affair  was  over. 
'•  1  have  not  only  managed  to  get  Sarah  and  myself  out  of  a 
scrape  that  might  have  been  devilish  awkward,  but  found  one 
D?ore  way  to  please  the  blonde  beaut}T  and  place  her  under 
obligation  I" 

Heading  was  dispensed  with  for  that  evening,  the  supper 

and  the  episode  of  the  child's   memory  having  occupied   all 

the   time  that  the  merchant  felt  it  prudent  to  spend  in  the 

house  on  that  occasion.     In  order  to  avoid  jarring  what  was 

16 


258  THE      DAYS      OF      BIOD'DT. 

otherwise  so  pleasant  nnd  bo  prosperous,  by  introducing  any 
thing  sordidly  pecuniary,  the  arch-schemer  allowed  tin1  wife 

to  see  him  drop  a  little  envelope  on  the  mantel  of  the  front 
room,  and  knew  that  she  understood  it  to  be  the  weekly 
salary  of  her  husband.  Then  he  stepped  across  to  the  door, 
as  if  to  take  his  leave.  The  wife,  still  conscious  of  the  honor 
done  her  by  his  repeated  calls,  prepared  to  accompany  him 
once  more  to  the  door. 

11  By  the  way,"  he  said,  stopping  at  the  threshold,  and  as 
if  something  before  forgotten  had  just  occurred  to  him.  "be- 
fore your  husband  went  away,  he  and  I  were  speaking  of 
your  probably  being  a  little  lonely  sometimes,  and  he  did  me 
the  honor  to  accept,  in  your  behalf,  my  promise  that  I  would 
drive  around  some  evening  and  ask  you  for  your  company  to 
one  of  the  theatres.  May  I  hope  that  you  will  fuitil  your 
husband's  wish  and  gratify  me  so  much  ?" 

"If  it  was  his  wish — certainly  !"  said  the  young  wife,  with- 
out one  suspicion  of  the  truth  of  the  allegation  or  one  doubt 
that  the  conversation  had  really  occurred.  Her  husband  and 
herself  had  both  been  very  fond  of  theatrical  performances 
and  spent  many  leisure  evenings  in  that  equally  abused  and 
lauded  mode  of  beguiling  the  present  iu  the  past  or  the  possi- 
ble. What  more  natural,  even  if  he  had  forgotten  to  speak 
to  her  on  the  subject,  in  the  many  p re-occupations  and  emo- 
tions of  his  departure, — than  that  he  should  have  been  willing 
to  provide  her  with  this  pleasure,  especially  in  eompan;. 
unexceptionable  that  he  had  to  some  extent  confided  her  to 
it?  She  had  not  one  instant's  thought  of  wrong  or  impro- 
priety connected  with  the  invitation  or  its  acceptance,  and  if 
she  hesitated  at  all.  did  so  under  doubt  whether  she  should 
allow  their  kind  friend  to  take  so  much  trouble  on  her  behalf. 
All  this  passed  in  an  instant;  any  doubt  of  the  policy  of  such 
a  course  vanished  as  quickly;  and  she  concluded  the  sentence 
which  had  been  begun  conditionally,  without  any  condition 
whatever  : — 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Holt,  if  you  will  take  so  much  trouble,  I 
will  go  with  you,  some  evening,  with  great  pleasure." 

For  the  instant  Charles  Holt  was  confounded  (it  could  not 
have  been  that  he  was  shamed)  by  the  unsuspecting  inno- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  259 

eence  of  this  woman.  lie  had  expected  doubts  and  hesita- 
tions, and  he  did  not  know  Mary  Ilaviland  well  enough  to 
be  aware  that  if  she  had  doubted  the  propriety  of  the  course, 
she  would  at  once  have  said  "  No  !"  She  had  answered 
altogether  too  easily  and  too  quickly  for  his  calculation.  But 
nun  oi'  the  world  must  be  prepared  for  unexpected  successes  as 
well  as  unexpected  rebuffs,  and  there  was  nothing  of  the 
triumph  which  he  really  felt,  in  his  voice,  as  he  said,  pressing 
his  advantage  : — 

"  You  delight  me,  my  dear  madam,  by  assenting  so  readily 
to  your  husband's  wish.  Let  me  see— this  is  Monday.  May 
I  drive  round,  then,  on  Wednesday  evening,  and  expect  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  to  see  Joe  Jefferson's  burlesque 
Mazeppa  at  the  Winter  Garden  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  any  thing  to  the  contrary,"  said  the  wife. 
"  Yes,  I  shall  be  pleased  to  go  there  if  you  will  be  kind 
enough  to  come  for  me." 

And  so,  with  the  same  respectful  intimacy  which  had 
marked  their  two  previous  partings,  but  perhaps  the  hand  of 
the  unsuspecting  wife  held  yet  a  little  longer  in  the  palm  of 
the  tempter,— they  separated  at  the  door,  and  Mary  Ilaviland 
went  again  up-stairs,  to  seek  her  nightly  rest,  and  to  dream— 
of  Charles  Holt  ? — no,  of  her  absent  husband  and  the  love 
with  which,  if  God  spared  and  shielded  him  amid  the  dangers 
of  battle,  he  would  yet  surround  her  ! 

V  Easier  than  I  thought !"  said  the  merchant,  as  he  crossed 
to  a  car.  (He  had  not  thought  it  advisable,  on  ordinary  oc- 
casions, to  come  to  Forty-eighth  Street  in  his  carriage,  for 
reasons  that  prudent  people  will  very  readily  understand.) 
"  Easier  than  I  thought !  I  was  afraid  there  might  be  a  cheek 
here,  but  no  !  Once  at  the  theatre,  and  publicly  talked  about 
as  going  out  with  some  other  person  than  her  husband, 
alone, — I  do  not  think  she  can  very  well  retreat  afterwards." 

Wednesday  evening  brought  the  merchant  and  his  car- 
riage — not  the  handsome  landau  in  which  he  sometimes  rode 
in  the  Central  Park  ami  made  his  calls  upon  his  recognized 
fashionable  acquaintances, — with  a  liveried  coachman  on  the 
box,  and  his  arms  (on  a  field  vert  a  griffin  rampant  argent, 
holding  a  key  or  in  the  dexter  claw  and  in  the  sinister  gripping 


2(10  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

a  human  heart  gulps,  with  the  motto  :   t4L*un  ou  I'aatrp,"  of 
which  "  Your  money  or  your  life  !"  might  perhaps  be  a  e 
what  free  rendering)  on  the  dark  panels, — but  a  plain  close 

carriage,  with  a  handsome  span  before  it  and  a  driver  out  of 
livery.  This  man  understood,  be  it  remembered,  all  the  poli- 
cies as  well  as  all  the  proprieties,  and  knew  a  thousand  times 
better  than  to  startle  the  young  wife  of  his  poor  clerk  by  the 
reminder  that  livery  might  give  her  of  the  new  world  into 
which  she  was  so  imprudently  allowing  herself  to  be  carried 
by  the  irresistible  Maelstrom  of  wealth  and  passion  ;  and  the 
plain  close  carriage  was  the  result. 

Mary  Haviland  would  have  been  something  more  or  less 
than  woman,  if  she  had  felt  no  sensation  of  pride  and  gratifi- 
cation when  the  merchant  handed  her  into  the  carriage  (she 
so  seldom  rode  in  one  ! — people  of  her  position  seldom  do, 
and  seldom  will  until  some  benevolent  pestilence  sweeps  over 
all  the  Northern  cities  and  carries  off  the  whole  race  of  livery- 
keepers  and  hack-swindlers,  who  make  less  than  half  the 
money  they  would  do  by  liberal  dealing,  and  yet  manage  to 
make  many  a  tired  limb  walk  when  it  would  ride  if  the  purse 
was  heavier  or  imposition  less  abhorrent) — she  would  have 
been  more  or  less  than  woman,  we  say,  if  she  had  felt  no  sen- 
sation of  pride  when  the  merchant,  faultlessly  dressed  and 
fine-looking,  handed  her  into  the  carriage  and  took  his 
by  her  side,  falling  himself  and  leading  her  into  pleasant  chat, 
as  readily  as  he  brushed  a  fleck  of  dust  from  his  Saxony 
with  his  snowy  cambric.  And  when  she  floated  into  the 
theatre  on  his  arm.  and  took  her  seat  in  the  private  box  by 
his  side  (another  so-called  luxury — that  private  box— to  which 
she  had  never  before  dreamed  of  aspiring),  and  when  lorgnette 
after  lorgnette  was  levelled  at  her  in  that  place  (as  they 
would  probably  not  have  been,  had  she  occupied  a  less  con- 
spicuous position)  with  undisguised  admiration  of  the  beauty 
and  simple  grace  of  "the  pretty  blonde  with  the  rich  hus- 
band,"— she  might  have  been  easily  pardonable  if  even  slightly 
intoxicated  by  the  aroma  to  which  she  was  so  little  aoeus- 
tomed,  and  touchingly  grateful  to  the  proud  man  who  had  for 
the  moment  stooped  down  from  his  height  to  give  her  a  new 
and  innocent  pleasure. 


THE      DATS      OF      SHuUDY.  201 

Perhaps  she  was  a  little  intoxicated,  both  by  her  surround- 
ings and  the  conversatioo  of  that  man  who  chatted  so 
easily  of  all  the  dramatic  and  musical  celebrities  whom  she 
had  never  known,  from  the  stars  of  the  early  days  of  the  Old 
Park  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  to  Malibran  and  Taglioni 
gleaming  like  meteors  from  the  other.  To  her,  so  lately  a 
count ry-girl  and  even  now  but  a  novice  in  all  the  prides  and 
luxuries  of  the  great  city,  to  some  extent  a  new  world  seemed 
opening' ;  and  it  was  not  strange  if  more  than  once  while  Joe 
(Jefferson  was  making  Byron  ridiculous  and  giving  a  new 
beauty  to  Tartar  history  by  his  rendering  of  Mazeppa  the 
Second,  her  thoughts  wandered  away  from  the  play,  to  the 
luxury  of  wealth,  the  pity  that  all  could  not  share  in  its  advan- 
tages, the  kindness  of  those  who  even  for  one  moment  gave 
the  humble  and  lowly  a  glimpse  into  the  glories  ordinarily 
denied  them. 

And  did  her  thoughts  wander  nowhere  else  ?  If  not — then 
the  innocent  taste  was  really  becoming  perverted  with  melan- 
choly rapidity,  and  the  merchant  was  winning  even  more 
rapidly  than  he  knew.  Nowhere  else  ? — yes,  the  little  wife 
had  an  occasional  thought  that  would  have  been  a  terrible 
Mordecai  in  the  gate  of  Haman  Holt  if  he  could  but  have 
fathomed  it — how  much  pleasanter,  after  all,  the  play  would 
be,  even  in  the  commonest  seat  of  the  parquette  or  gallery, 
if  "  Burtey"  could  only  sit  beside  her  and  enjoy  it  with  her, 
instead  of  being  far  from  her,  away  out  in  the  lonely  night, 
leading  the  desolate  life  of  a  soldier. 

It  so  happened  that  on  that  very  evening,  at  about  eight 
o'clock  (only  one  clay,  by  the  way,  after  the  occurrences  last 
detailed  at  the  Fullerton  mansion),  Kate  Haviland,  who  had 
not  before  been  able  to  leave  the  house  long  enough  for  that 
purpose,  ran  out  Twenty-third  Street  to  the  Third  Avenue, 
seized  a  car  (that  word  exactly  expresses  the  air  with  which 
she  took  possession  of  one  side  of  the  vehicle,  spread  her  rea- 
sonably voluminous  skirts  over  one-half  the  length  of  the 
cusbioo  on  that  side,  and  patronized  the  conductor  with  five 
cents),  and  just  fifteen  minutes  thereafter  was  making  a  call, 
as  she  supposed,  on  her  female  cousin-in-law. 

Sarah  Sanderson  admitted  her.      Mary  Haviland  was  ab- 


262  THE       DAYS      OF      SIIUDDY. 

sent.  Where  ?  Gone  to  the  theatre,  the  girl  said,  with  an 
unpleasant  expression  of  satisfaction  on  her  elfish  little  faee, — 
with  Mr.  Holt,  the  merchant,  who  had  just  driven  round  and 
taken  her  away  in  his  carriage. 

"  Phew  !"  said  Kate  Haviland  to  herself,  something  coming 
up  in  her  throat  and  something  else  seeming  to  settle  down 
dark  over  her  eyes.  "Her  husband  two  weeks  gone,  and 
she  riding  about  in  carriages  and  going  to  theatres  with  his 
wealthy  employer!  Phew!  Stop — it  may  be  only  once, 
and  in  that  event  not  entirely  beyond  pardon.  Sarah,  has 
Mrs.  Haviland  been  out  with  Mr.  Holt,  before  ?" 

The  double-eagle  had  sharpened  the  young  ghTs  eyes, 
keen  enough  before.  She  saw  that  there  was  worry  in  the 
face  of  the  teacher,  and  instinctively  felt  that  she  could  not 
do  Mrs.  Haviland  more  harm  than  by  placing  her  in  as  bad  a 
position  as  possible  before  her  relative.  "Yes,  ma'am,"  she 
answered — "several  times — that  is,  about  twice  or  three 
times,  I  guess." 

"  Ph — h — h — e\v  !''  again  said  Kate  Haviland  to  herself, 
but  this  time  with  the  whistle,  to  which  she  had  a  little  un- 
feminine  proclivity,  very  much  prolonged.  "Been  out  with 
him  twice  or  three  times  before  !  The  habit  is  a  regular  one, 
then,  it  seems  !  And  he  the  man  he  is  represented  to  be  by 
member's  of  his  own  family  !  I  am  afraid  that  the  possession 
of  the  portrait  is  no  mystery.  And  yet  who  could  have  be- 
lieved it,  when  she  seemed  to  love  Burtey  so  truly  and  to  be 
such  a  dear  devoted  little  wife  !" 

All  this  to  herself,  of  course;  but  Sarah  Sanderson,  who 
was  busied  in  getting  little  Pet  ready  for  bed,  had  leisure  to 
look  into  the  eyes  of  the  teacher  and  see  how  the  trouble  was 
gathering  deeper  there.  She  was  pleased  by  the  observation. 
She  was  not  a  poor  insignificant  little  thing — a  nobody,  to  be 
put  about  and  made  nothing  of!  She  could  make  herself  of 
some  consequence.  She  could  wound  Mary  Haviland,  the 
usurper,  who  stood  in  her  place  !  She  would  do  so,  deeper 
and  deeper,  now  that  the  thought  had  come  to  her  and  the 
opportunity  offered  itself. 

The  portrait — perhaps  something  could  be  learned  about 
that — thought  the  teacher,  and  she  felt  no  delicacy  in  making 


THE      DAYS      OF      8  II  O  D  D  Y .  !_'!  13 


it! 


the  attempt,  now  that  the  most  painful  suspicions  of  tl 
weakness  (not  the  guilt,  be  it  remembered)  of  the  young  wife 
bad  begun  to  be  entertained.  She  went  to  the  mantel  of  the 
front  room  and  began  turning  over  the  few  articles  it  con- 
tained.  She  knew  nothing  of  the  portrait  said  to  be  in  the 
hands  of  the  Fullertons,  as  of  course  she  had  not  seen  it ;  but 
there  were  two  clues  to  its  identity — its  being  an  ambrotype, 
and  the  name  of  Mary  Ilavilaud  upon  the  case,  which  could 
not  by  any  means  be  common  to  the  pictures  in  possession  of 
the  family.  After  fumbling  with  the  minerals,  Red  Hiding 
Hood  match-safes  and  other  trifles  on  the  mantel,  a  few 
moments,  and  opening  and  shutting  the  cases  of  the  half 
dozen  of  family  daguerreotypes  and  ambrotypes  lying  there — 
she  called  to  Sarah,  who  had  returned  to  the  other  room  and 
left  her  to  her  apparently  childish  amusement. 

"  Sarah,  there  was  an  arnbrotype  here,  that  I  was  trying 
to  find — one  of  Mrs.  Haviland,  with  her  name  in  gilt  letters 
on  the  case.     Do  you  know  what  has  become  of  it  ?" 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  very  naturally  answered  the 
girl,  who  did  not  know  any  thing  about  it.  She  remembered 
the  picture,  by  the  description,  but  had  no  idea  where  she 
might  have  seen  it  last.  The  fact  was  that  she  had  not  seen 
it  for  many  months,  Burtnett  Haviland  having  carried  it 
down  to  the  store  to  have  the  broken  case  repaired,  and  then 
forgotten  it  there,  as  husbands  have  a  bad  habit  of  doing 
when  they  undertake  to  perform  errands  for  the  household. 
He  had  other  and  more  valuable  pictures  of  the  same  dear 
face,  and  the  little  ambrotype  had  been  quite  ignored  in  favor 
of  the  still  better  specimens  of  the  same  art  succeeding  it. 

But  Kate  Haviland  was  not  to  be  foiled  by  the  ignorance 
of  the  girl.  "It  seems  to  be  gone,"  she  said.  "Perhaps 
Mr.  Haviland  may  have  taken  it  away  with  him  to  the  war.*' 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  said  the  girl.  "He  had  a  picture 
taken  of  her,  only  a  day  or  two  before  he  went  away,  on 
leather,  or  something  of  that  kind,  so  that  he  cotdd  carry  it 
in  his  pocket-book  and  not  have  it  broken.  I  don't  think  he 
took  any  other." 

'•  What  can  have  become  of  it,  then  ?"  persisted  the  in- 
quisitor.    "I  am  sure  1  saw  it  there  not  long  ago."     A  little 


26-1  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

fib,  for  a  purpose,  and  answering  a  very  different  purpose  from 
the  one  intended, 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  I  saw  it  there  after  Mr.  Ilaviland  went 
away,'1  answered  the  girl,  her  ideas  as  to  time  fixed  by  tin; 
questioner.  Then  the  perpetual  thought  of  Mary  Ilaviland, 
her  haunting  spectre,  came  into  her  mind,  and  she  added, 
without  any  thought  how  well  the  reply  would  carry  out  her 
own  intentions  :  "  Mrs.  Ilaviland  must  have  given  it  away  to 
somebody,  I  suppose." 

That  closed  the  conversation.  Strange  how  little  will 
sometimes  satisfy  those  already  half  satisfied  !  Five  minutes 
afterwards,  Kate  Haviland  left  the  house  with  a  sore  heart, 
convinced  that  Burtnett\s  wife  was  in  the  habit  of  going  to 
the  theatres  with  a  man  of  doubtful  character,  that  she  had 
given  him  her  picture,  and  that  she  was  sly  as  well  as  weak. 
Thenceforth  confidence  between  the  two,  both  so  good  and 
both  so  true,  was  necessarily  destroyed,  and  Mary  Hav- 
iland had  lost  one  of  her  guardian  angels.  Kate's  next  letter 
to  her  cousin,  which  very  soon  followed,  was  full  of  a  sad, 
sober  earnest,  and  had  not  even  one  jesting  allusiou  to 
relieve  it. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

Voyage  of  the  Fire  Zouaves  to  Annapolis — Their  Con- 
dition, Character,  and  the  Influences  for  and  against 
them — Arrival  at  Washington — Camp  Lincoln  and 
Camp  Decker — Blrtnett  Haviland's  Letters,  and  the 
Effect  they  produced — The  Regiment  getting  ready 
for  work. 

It  now  becomes  proper,  for  a  certain  period,  to  follow  the 
fortunes  of  Burtnett  Haviland,  private  in  the  First  Regiment 
of  Fire  Zouaves,  and  of  the  organization  to  which  he  had 
attached  himself  in  entering  the  L^nion  Army.  To  pass  to 
sterner  if  not  sadder  scenes  than  those  with  which  we  have 
already   been    conversant,    and   to   note   some  of  the    early 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  265 

peculiarities  of  that  struggle  to  destroy  the  great  republic, 
which  kept  pace  with  the  efforts  before  and  after  made  to 
destroy  that  other  little  republic — a  home. 

The  Fire  Zouaves  dropped  down  the  bay  and  went  to  sea, 
on  board  the  Baltic,  on  that  Monday  evening  the  20th  of 
April,  with  high  hopes  and  noble  aspirations.  The  enthu- 
siast ie  young  Colonel,  only  half  acquainted  with  the  material 
of  his  men,  believed  it  to  be  excellent ;  and  he  possessed  that 
sacred  hunger  of  patriotism  (to  alter  a  little  an  old  and  well- 
known  phrase)  which  made  any  means  of  fulfilling  his  desire 
apparently  sufficient  for  the  end.  His  men  had  been  hastily 
gathered  ;  but  had  he  not  the  assurance  of  those  who  should 
know  them  best,  and  of  his  own  observation  of  the  actions 
of  the1  firemen,  that  they  were  far  better  than  any  other  com- 
mander could  hope  to  gather  ?  Their  weapons  had  only  been 
found  at  the  moment  of  starting,  and  of  course  they  knew 
nothing  whatever  of  their  use  ;  but  were  not  their  hands 
used  to  the  tools  of  their  various  trades  and  to  the  implements 
of  their  fire-duty,  and  could  they  not  learn  more  quickly  than 
the  same  number  of  men  taken  from  any  other  class  of 
society  ?  They  had  not  been  drilled  even  in  the  marchings 
and  facings  which  constitute  the  A.  B.  C,  of  soldierly 
education  ;*  but  had  they  not  been  used  to  the  semi-soldierly 
discipline  of  the  fire-parade,  and  how  much  trouble  could  it 
possibly  be  to  change  that  discipline  to  the  necessary  move- 
ments of  the  camp  and  the  field,  especially  under  his  instruc- 
tion, when  he  had  won  the  credit  of  being  the  first 
drill-master  on  the  continent  ? 

Such  were  the  hopes  and  beliefs  of  the  young  Colonel. 
Some  of  the  other  officers  of  the  regiment  knew  that  the 
organization  was  little  more  than  a  mob,  with  sufficient  bad 
material  to  vitiate  the  remainder,  and  that  peculiar  indepen- 
dence in  composition  which  could  scarcely  be  brought  to 
Bubmit  to  that  necessary  restraint  called  discipline.  They 
knew  that  the  common  soldiers  did  not  look  up  to  the  officers, 
nor  even  hold  many  of  them  in  any  personal  respect.     They 

*  Ouly  a  single  and  very  short  attempt  at  drilling  the  Zouaves  in  tlio 
facings  was  made  before  they  went  away — at  the  old  building  in  Franklin 
Street. 


266  THE      DAYS      OF       SHODDY. 

had  been  brother  members  in  the  same  company — had  been 
"Jack" and  "  Bill"  and  "  Bob*'  to  each  other,  and  were  bo  still. 

They  might  temporarily  keep  their  tongues  silent  and  their 
passions  under  control,  when  on  parade  or  under  the  im- 
mediate eye  of  the  Colonel  or  one  of  the  other  field  offi 
but  even  the  Colonel  had  too  much  familiarized  himself  with 
them  and  made  them  too  nearly  comrades  and  not  enough  sol- 
diers under  his  command.  Oft"  parade  and  when  away  from  the 
ews  of  the  field  officers,  discipline  was  actually  a  thing 
unknown.  Equality,  in  its  largest  sense,  was  the  rule,  with 
plenty  of  liberty  but  not  much  fraternity.  The  Captain 
slapped  his  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  private  and  Bald 
"  How  art-  you,  Jim  ?"  just  as  he  had  done  when  they  were 
running  together  as  members  of  Old  Two  Hundred  and 
Eighty-Seven  Truck.  The  private  returned  the  Captain's 
slap  and  invited  him  to  "  smile,-'  when  circumstances  were' 
favorable  and  good  humor  prevailed  ;  and  when  ill-temper 
arose  he  had  no  hesitation  whatever  in  recommending  that 
officer  to  "go  to" — some  place  not  set  down  in  ordinary 
geographies,  calling  him  a  "  foo-foo"  with  a  very  harsh 
adjective  prefixed,  or  threatening  to  "lick  him  when  he  got 
him  in  a  square  place."  At  times,  rumor  said,  the  private 
really  did  administer  that  corrective  to  his  officer,  and  with- 
out any  subsequent  action  being  taken  to  punish  what 
would  in  any  other  organization  have  been  called  a  "  want  of 
respect"  at  least  ! 

Then  the  firemen,  as  any  one  who  knew  them  well  should 
have  known,  were  naturally  clannish  to  a  degree  never  else- 
where equalled  since  Graham  of  Claverhouse  attempted  to 
marshal  the  Highlanders  in  opposition  to  the  forces  of  King 
William,  and  found  all  his  sins  against  the  Covenanters 
revenged  in   the   effort.*     Soldiers  they  might  become,  but 

*  There  is  no  finer  piece  of  humorous  earnest  in  the  language,  than  Ma« 
caulay'e  description  of  the  "Military  Character  of  the  Highlanders,"  in  the 
thirteenth  chapter  (vol.  III.)  of  his  "History  of  England."  in  which  he  shows 
what  Claverhouse  (then  Viscount  Dundee)  .had  to  contend  with  in  making  an 
army  out  of  the  Highland  clans,  and  the  pleasant  probabilities  that  the 
Camerons,  the  Macdonalds,  the  Gordons,  the  Grants,  the  Campbells,  the 
Mtiegregors,  or  some  other  leading  clan  might,  at  any  moment,  break  out  into 
a  'quarrel  with  some  hereditary  fue,  or  that  at  any  hour  '•  the  right  wing  of 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  267 

they  could  never  cease  to  be  firemen  and  attached  to  their 
respective  fighting  as  well  as  working  companies;  and  at  any 
moment  a  dispute  was  likely  to  arise  between  two  members 

of  different  engine  companies,  whether  One  Hundred  and 
Ninety  did  or  did  not  "wash''  One  Hundred  and  Eighty-Xinc, 
at  Laird's  Pole  on  Thanksgiving  Day  of  a  certain  year,  or 
whether  One  Hundred  and  Eighty-Eight  did  or  did  not  pass 
One  Hundred  and  Eighty-seven  fairly,  coming  down  Chatham 
Street  hill  on  the  night  of  a  certain  lire  in  the  Eighth.  It 
is  a  melancholy  fact  that  our  fire  organizations  have  not  always 
been  the  most  peaceful  in  the  world,  even  when  coming  home 
from  the  funerals  of  deceased  brothers  ;  and  such  little  dis- 
putes between  members  of  different  companies  were  almost 
sure  to  result  in  open  hostilities  at  the  time,  or  the  smoulder- 
ing of  anger  to  a  future  period,  infinitely  worse.  It  was 
almost  impossible,  meanwhile,  for  an  officer  to  be  either  feared 
or  obeyed,  except  by  such  members  of  the  regiment  as  had 
feared  and  obeyed  him  in  another  relation  ;  and  the  effect  of 
all  this,  and  of  bickerings  and  disputes  about  old  Engineer 
elections  and  examinations  before  the  Board  of  Fire  Commis- 
sioners, may  be  imagined  by  any  one  who  has  closely  ob- 
served one  of  the  so-called  "happy  families"  of  the  menag- 
erie. 

There  was  something  worse  even  than  this,  in  the  regiment ; 
and  long  before  they  had  completed  their  prosperous  sea- 
voyage  and  landed  at  Annapolis,  even  the  blindly  enthusiastic 
Colonel  had  become  aware  of  it.  There  were  nearly  thirteen 
hundred  men  attached  to  the  organization  when  it  left  New 
York,  and  at  least  two  or  three  hundred  were  thieves  and 
vagabonds.  Burtnett  Haviland  had  scarcely  composed  him- 
self to  sleep,  down  in  the  dusky  steerage  of  the  Baltic,  on  the 
ftrsl  night  out  and  when  .the  ship  was  yet  in  sight  of  the 
Jersey  coast,  before  he  had  occasion  to  tight  in  the  dark  for 
the  retention  of  his  watch  and  pocket-book;  and  some  were 
really  robbed  without  being  able  to  trace  the  depredators, 
before  they  reached  the  place  of  disembarkation.      The  officers 

khe  army  might  be  fWnd  fiTing  an  the  centre,  in  pursuance  of  some  quarrel 
l#o  hundred  years  old,  or  that  a  whole  battalion  might  march  back  to  its 
Ua  ive  -ten  becau.ee  another  battalion  had  been  placed  m  the  pust  oi  honor." 


2(58  THE      DAY  S      0  F      S  II  0  D  I)  Y. 

did  all  in  their  power  to  overawe  the  ruffians  and  maintain 
order,  but  they  could  do  but  little  ;  and  calm  observers,  if 
any  there  were  id  the  regiment,  saw  serious  trouble  ahead, 
before  they  again  set  foot  on  the  land. 

Such  was  Burtnett  Haviland's  opening  experience  as  a 
soldier,  and  such  were  the  omens  for  the  future  nnefulm 
the  regiment  staring  him  in  the  face.  And  if  he  had  a  mo- 
mentary regret  that  his  lot  had  not  been  cast,  by  his  own 
choice,  among  men  who  promised  to  do  more  honor  to  the 
service, — he  had  at  least  the  consolation  of  knowing  that  he 
had  taken  a  wise  course  in  refusing  to  accept  any  command. 
To  serve  was  bad  enough  :  to  command  would  have  been 
murder  of  body  and  soul.  Such  at  least  was  the  experience 
of  poor  Ellsworth,  and  of  Famham  and  Cregier  and  the 
more  capable  Captains,  before  their  connection  with  the  regi- 
ment closed  in  one  or  another  misfortune. 

There  was,  of  course,  much  to  relieve  this  somewhat 
gloomy  picture.  The  body  of  the  regiment  was  formed  of 
elever  fellows,  full  of  the  capability  as  Well  as  the  will  of 
enjoyment.  Hilarity  without  disorder  reigned  among  many 
of  the  circles  into  which  the  Zouaves  naturally  segregated, 
and  high  hopes  of  future  honor  and  usefulness  still  animated 
those  who  had  within  them  the  truth  of  patriotism.  Mote 
than  once  during  the  passage  down,  vessels  were  descried 
and  rebel  privateers  believed  to  be  looking  out  for  the  trans- 
port-ships ;  and  the  alacrity  with  which  the  Zouaves  answered 
the  calls  to  arms  on  such  occasions,  evidenced,  what  every 
one  knew  before,  however — that  if  they  had  little  proclivity 
for  discipline  they  lacked  neither  courage  nor  a  firm  deter- 
mination to  uphold  the  honor  of  the  flag.  These  were  false 
alarms,  of  course,  and  the  voyage  ended  without  accident  or 
obstruction,  other  than  those  supplied  by  the  shoal  water  of 
the  Chesapeake  and  a  little  official  stupidity  to  make  it 
effectual. 

The  Baltic  was  off  Annapolis  on  the  morning  of  Thursday 
the  2d  of  May,  exchanging  salutes  with  the  Cunard  steam- 
ship Kedar,  that  had  preceded  her  but  yet  had  on  board  the 
Fifth  New  York,  Duryea's  Zouaves,  destined  afterwards  to 
reflect  such  glory  on  the  volunteer  service.      General  Butler 


THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY.  2G9 

■was  in  command  at  Annapolis  and  in  high  feather ;  and  the 
town  was  literally  one  vast  cam]),  with  the  Sixth,  Eighth  and 
thirteenth  of  New  York,  Massachusetts  Fourth  and  Boston 
Flying  Artillery,  and  two  Pennsylvania  regiments.  The 
Sixty-ninth  New  York  were  meanwhile  doing  yeomen's  ser- 
vice in  guarding  the  railroad  between  Annapolis  and  the 
Junction,  so  laboriously  repaired  by  the  Seventh  on  their 
march. 

The  Zouaves  disembarked,  after  many  delays — without  some 
of  which  at  intervals  the  voyage  would  have  been  incomplete, — 
and  made  the  rest  of  the  journey  by  rail,  reaching  Washing- 
ton between  eight  and  nine  o'clock  on  Friday  evening  the  3d, 
after  a  long  delay  at  Annapolis  Junction  and  much  of  what 
is  known  in  foraging  phrase  as  "chicken  experience." 
Thoroughly  beaten  out  by  their  different  modes  of  travel,  in 
spite  of  the  hardihood  of  their  frames  under  ordinary  cir- 
cumstances, half  fed  and  with  rest  broken  altogether,  they 
would  have  presented  a  miserable  sight  to  the  spectator,  had 
there  been  light  enough  to  observe  them,  as  they  came  in  at 
the  Washington  Depot  that  night,  the  cars  packed  to  reple- 
tion, and  nearly  as  many  on  the  outside  as  the  inside,  clinging 
to  the  tops  like  so  many  bees  to  the  hive  at  swarming  time. 
But  this  did  not  conclude  the  infliction.  The  fame  of  the 
Zouaves  and  the  expectation  of  what  they  were  to  do  in 
arms  had  widely  preceded  them  ;  there  were  not  yet  too 
many  soldiers  in  Washington  for  its  defence,  and  every  new 
regiment  was  at  once  an  object  of  interest  and  congratulation  ; 
and  though  it  was  so  dusky  that  nothing  more  than  a  gray 
mass  could  be  discerned  beneath  the  starlight,  the  foot-sore 
and  weary  (and  it  must  be  added,  swearing)  fellows  were 
marched  all  the  way  down  Pennsylvania  Avenue  from  the 
Railroad  Depot  to  the  White  House,  more  or  less  paraded 
there,  and  addressed  in  a  speech  which  they  neither  heard 
nor  heeded,  by  a  President  of  the  United  States  who  could 
not  see  them  to  distinguish  them  from  so  many  street  boys  ! 
Then  another  weary  and  foot-sore  march  (let  it  be  remem- 
bered that  the  boys  were  taking  their  first  lesson  in  trudging 
under  knapsacks  and  in  military  order)  the  entire  length  of 
Pennsylvania  Avenue  to  the  Capitol,  to  quarters  in  the  Hall 


270  THE       DAYS      OF      SH«»I>1»Y. 

of  Representatives  that  had  never  before  beeti  so  thoroughly 
fiiled  or  so  oddly  occupied,  and  to  those  chances  for  -upper 
which  might  have  been  doubtful  enough  but  for  the  fore* 
thought  of  some  of  the  officers  who  had  learned  the  art  of 

''foraging"  under  other  circumstances,  and  the  commissariat 
of  one  of  the  Massachusetts  regiments  already  occupying  a 
portion  of  the  national  building. 

It  was  one  week  that  the  Zouaves  lounged  in  the  chairs  of 
Honorable  Members,  made  burlesque  speeches,  told  si 
of  doubtful  morality  but  undoubted  jollity,  smoked  their 
cigars  and  carried  things  with  a  high  hand  generally,  in 
that  Hall  where  so  many  worse  follies  had  before  been  per* 
petrated  and  have  since  been  continued,  by  men  claiming 
much  higher  position  than  the  Fire  Regiment.  It  was  during 
that  week  that  fortune  favored  them  with  a  fire  of  magnif- 
icent proportions,  in  the  burning  of  one  of  the  temporary 
hospitals,  giving  them  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of  that 
one  accomplishment  (fire  duty)  which  they  certainly  poss 
in  a  perfection  beyond  all  others,  and  furnishing  one  of  the 
wits  of  the  time  with  the  m- 1  in  regard  to  them,  that  ''if  any- 
body wanted  the  Fire  Zouaves  to  go  through  a  body  of  rebels, 
the  proper  course  would  be  to  ring  a  fire-bell  on  the  other 
side  of  the  enemy,  and  they  would  sweep  away  all  opposi- 
tion within  two  minutes."  It  was  within  that  week,  too, 
that  Burtnett  Haviland  received  the  odd  letter  of  poor  little 
Tim,  read  it  twice,  then  kissed  the  spot  where  his  wife's  name 
was  mentioned,  said:  "The  poor  boy  must  be  crazy!"  put  the 
letter  into  his  pocket  and  thought  no  more  of  it — until  after- 
word*. 

It  had  been  on  Friday  that  the  Zouaves  reached  "Washing- 
ton. Though  they  commenced  preparations  to  leave  the 
Capitol  on  Thursday,  it  was  not  until  Friday  the  10th  of  May 
that  they  finally  left  the  scene  of  their  Congressional  exploits 
and  marched  to  the  camping-ground  selected  for  them.  And 
it  may  be  said,  here,  that  subsequent  events  seemed  to  give 
some  countenance  to  the  old  omen,  as  Friday  proved  to  be 
their  dies  irce.  In  addition  to  the  two  Friday  movements 
just  recorded,  they  moved  from  the  camp  now  selected,  to 
the  second,  on  Friday  ;  it  was  on  Friday  that  they  captured 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHOD  D  Y.  271 

Alexandria  and  lost,  their  brave  but  flash  and  bead-strong 
young  Colonel  ;  and  it  was  on  Friday  that  they  took  up  their 
line  of  march  for  the  battle-field  of  Manasses  (Bull  Run),  which 
virtually  "wiped  out.'"  the  organization. 

This  first  camp  lay  beyond  Anadosti  bridge,  in  Maryland, 
three  and  a  half  miles  from  the  Capitol,  one  and  a  half  from 
the  Navy- Yard  bridge  (then  guarded  by  two  companies  of  the 
New  York  Seventy-first)  and  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  south 
from  the  Insane  Asylum  which  crowns  the  heights  opposite 
the  city.  The  location  was  consequently  about  four  miles 
from  Alexandria,  at  which  place  the  rebels  were  reported  to 
have  from  one  thousand  to  three  thousand  troops,  though 
after  events  made  it  doubtful  whether  there  had  been  at  any 
one  time  in  the  town  more  than  five  hundred. 

The  camp,  named  Camp  Lincoln  (after  the  President — 
perhaps  because  he  had  not  bored  the  boys  with  a  longer 
speech  on  the  night  of  their  reception  :  perhaps  because  of 
Colonel  Ellsworth's  personal  attachmentto  that  dignitary),  was 
not  remarkably  well  selected,  the  ground"  being  a  deal  level, 
very  retentive  of  rain  and  liable  to  mud,  and  woods  flanking 
it  on  either  side  within  a  distance  of  one  hundred  yards, 
rendering  it  liable  to  dangerous  night-approach  by  the  enemy, 
unless  under  remarkable  vigilance.  It  wras  capitally  laid  out, 
however,  under  the  direction  and  special  care  of  the  new 
Lieutenant-Colonel,  Egbert  L.  Farnham,  who  joined  the 
regiment  here  in  that  capacity,  leaving  a  position  in  the 
Seventh  to  assume  it.  The  new  Adjutant,  Loeser  (after- 
wards temporarily  Colonel)  also  joined  the  regiment  here 
and  began  to  make  his  soldierly  qualities  felt  in  the  organiza- 
tion. 

Here,  for  the  first  time,  Burtnett  Haviland  and  most  of  his 
companions  had  their  first  experience  of  what  could  be  truly 
called  "camp  life."  They  learned  how  damp  a  bed  straw 
when  well  sunken  into  the  mud,  can  make  ;  but  they  learned, 
at  the  same  time,  how  much  better  and  less  injurious  to  the 
bodily  health  is  even  that  soft,  damp  bed,  than  any  one  dry 
and  hard  and  not  eapable  of  yielding  to  the  graduated  pres- 
sure of  the  human  body.  They  learned  how  much  more  of 
sound  than   of  substance  there  was  in  the  name  of  the  cele- 


272  T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      S  IT  O  P  P  Y. 

brated  "  Sibley"  tents,  an  improvement  (believed  by  many  to 
kwards)  on  the  old  bell  tent  of  tin-  European  armies. — 
with  an  iron  tripod  for  centre  and  cooking  support,  and  a 
ventilator  at  top  that  would  permit  the  rain  to  come  in  when 
that  refreshing  form  of  the  watery  element  was  descending, 
and  soak  the  sleepers  thoroughly,  red  blankets  and  all.  They 
were  firemen,  however,  used  to  water,  and  rather  thrived 
under  such  regimen  than  otherwise.  They  learned  how 
monotonous  a  day  can  be,  when  broken  up  by  no  great  effort 
of  body  or  mind,  however  varied  by  morning  reveille,  and 
the  serving  of  rations,  and  roll  call,  and  guard  mounting, 
and  morning  parade  and  drill,  and  dinner,  and  parade  and 
drill  again,  and  cards,  newspapers,  conversation  and  writing 
letters,  for  recreation,  till  tattoo  at  nine  o'clock  and  the  put- 
ting out  of  lights  for  another  night  of  tossing  about  in  the 
red  blankets.  They  learned  that  breakfast  cooked  ol  fn  nco 
and  dinners  prepared  in  the  same  manner,  when  the  beef 
was  reasonably  fresh,  the  bread  and  biscuits  neither  dry  nor 
mouldy,  the  coffee  not  all  beans,  the  fresh  fish  not  a  flat  con- 
tradiction of  the  name  and  the  mess-cooks  not  too  incapable, 
— tasted  about  as  well  as  they  would  have  done  when  pre- 
pared in  smoky  kitchens  and  served  by  waiters  with  black 
skins  and  white  aprons,  anywhere  along  in  the  line  -of 
luxury  between  Crook's  in  Chatham  Street  and  Delmonico's 
on  Fourteenth.  They  learned,  at  least  to  some  extent,  how 
truly  the  occupation  of  ^  soldier  is  a  (rode,  and  how  much 
labor  and  earnest  application  are  necessary  before  it  can  be 
mastered — what  blunders  and  oversights  are  inevitable,  and 
what  marchings  and  countermarchings.  facings  and  filings,  are 
to  be  endured  with  patience,  before  the  human  machine  can 
become  useful  to  the  God  of  War  in  whose  hands  he  is  after- 
wards to  be  a  living  puppet.  They  learned,  too,  and  finally, 
something  of  that  experience  which  no  soldier,  volunteer 
or  regular,  ever  forgets  after  a  little  indulgence  in  it  within 
a  hostile  section — picket  guard.  The  long,  lonely  hours  in 
darkness  and  storm — the  feeling  that  a  cat,  or  a  hyena  of  not 
too  fierce  propensities,  would  be  better  company  than  none — 
the  doubt  at  what  moment  a  bullet  may  come  whizzing 
through  the  bushes    and  supply  a  subject    for   the   hospital 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  273 

Burgeons,  if  it  does  not  put  a  period  to  the  eareer  of  the 
picket — the  overstraining  of  the  eyes  in  looking  through 
t Lie  gloom  at  distant  or  doubtful  objects,  that  may  or  may  not 
he  creeping  up  for  a  shot  at  the  sentry  or  an  attack  on  the 
cam}) — the  overstraining  of  the  ears  in  listening  for  sounds 
that  never  come  or  that  prove  to  be  very  different  from  those  at 
iirst  imagined — the  thoughts  of  home,  and  lighted  rooms, 
and  places  of  public  amusement,  and  gatherings  of  friends — 
the  wonder  how  late  it  is,  how  soon  the  relief  is  to  come,  and 
whether,  after  all,  a  man  is  not  a  fool  to  place  himself  in  any 
such  position — all  this  belongs  to  the  experience  of  the 
picket  guard  ;  and  all  this,  informs  more  or  less  positive,  the 
Zouaves  endured  around  that  first  camp  on  the  Eastern 
Branch  of  the  Potomac,  though  such  of  them  as  lived  and 
kept  heart  to  join  other  regiments,  afterwards  found  another 
aad  sharper  experience  in  the  same  direction,  along  the  lower 
Potomac,  the  Chickahominy,  the  Rapidan  and  the  Rappa- 
hannock, when  the  hostile  forces  only  lay  separated  by  nar- 
row rivers,  and  picket-shooting  had  become  an  amusement, 
for  both  armies,  about  as  common  as  rabbit-hunting  in  time 
of  peace.  It  may  be  imagined  with  what  yearning  the 
young  soldier  in  whose  fortunes  this  narration  is  principally 
interested,  thought  of  Mary  and  little  Pet  and  his  pleasant 
home,  when  his  chanced  to  be  the  lot  of  the  picket,  and  the 
long  night-hours  that  seemed  as  if  they  would  never  bring 
the  morning,  crept  slowly  by. 

There  was  one  variation  in  the  life  of  the  Zouaves  in  camp, 
then  and  afterwards,  that  should  not  be  passed  entirely  with- 
out notice.  -Some  allusion  has  already  been  made  to  the 
clannishness  of  the  members.  They  were  a  class  as  well  as 
clannish;  and  the  body  from  which  they  had  been  selected, 
never  ceased  to  consider  them  members  or  to  hold  some  over- 
sight upon  their  movements.  Holiday  excursions  down  to 
the  camp,  by  men  who  had  no  idea  whatever  of  going  into 
camp  for  any  more  warlike  purpose,  became  fashionable  at 
once  among  the  stay-at-home  New  Yorkers, — just  as  Green- 
wood is  considered  a  good  place  for  an  idle,  laughing  summer- 
afternoon  ride  or  stroll,  by  people  who  have  no  desire  what- 
ever to  go  there  and  be  buried.  There  mav  have  been  good 
17 


274  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY 

feeling  in  all  this,  as  there  certainly  were  variety  and  ainuse- 

ment  for  the  Zouaves;  ami  no  doubt  kind  messages  were 
interchanged  between  soldiers  and  their  friends  and  families, 
through  the  means  of  such  visits  to  the  Zouaves  and  to  any 
one  of  five  hundred  other  regiments,  that  might  never  have 
been  conveyed  under  different  circumstances ;  but  there  are 
some  who  have  always  doubted  the  nobility  of  position  of  the 
able-bodied  man,  equally  capable  with  his  friends  of  leaving 
home  and  business  and  taking  the  chances  of  war  in  their 
company,  paying  mere  idle  holiday  visits  to  them  in  camp, 
and  then  going  calmly  back  to  his  own  pursuits  or  pleasures, 
while  the  soldiers  went  on  to  fight  the  battles  of  the  nation. 
Of  course  these  parenthetical  remarks,  if  there  is  any  severity 
in  them,  do  not  apply  to  those  who  have  at  any  time  during 
the  war  visited  the  camps  on  official  business,  for  the  purposes 
of  benevolence,  or  even  to  carry  out  the  very  ostentatious 
presentations  of  municipal  and  civic  bodies  :  they  apply  only 
to  the  useless,  insignificant  human  butterflies  who  have  had 
the  face  to  show  themselves  where  they  had  no  excuse  for  not 
remaining  permanently,  and  yet  where  they  lacked  courage 
or  patriotism  to  remain.  Neither  discipline  nor  efficiency  have 
very  often  been  promoted  by  the  visits  of  any:  and  so  let  the 
subject  be  dismissed. 

The  Fire  Zouaves  remained  a  week  at  Camp  Lincoln :  then 
came  a  change.  A  better  location  had  been  selected  for  them, 
on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  three  miles  below  and  imme- 
diately opposite  the  Washington  Arsenal,  and  occupying  a 
part  of  the  lands  of  a  Virginian  named  George  AYashington 
Young,  a  large  landed  proprietor  and  slave-owner,  who  never 
managed  to  make  the  fire-boys  believe  that  he  was  any  thing 
more  amiable  than  a  covert  secessionist.  Here  they  had  an 
elevated  position,  fine  wood  and  water,  and  a  splendid  parade- 
ground  stretching  back  from  the  river.  They  took  posses- 
sion of  the  new  location  on  Friday  the  17th  of  May,  and 
pitched  the  tents  composing  the  camp  with  the  belief  that 
they  were  not  soon  to  be  called  to  the  more  active  duties  of 
the  war,  and  that  the  pleasant  parade-ground  might  be  their 
place  of  daily  exercise  for  weeks  if  not  months,  until  they  had 
gained  some  proficiency  in  that  drill  which  was  to  make  them 


T  IT  E      PAYS      OF      S  IT  O  D  D  Y .  275 

true  soldiers.  And  so  they  might  have  done,  to  softie  extent, 
even  in  the  brief  space  that  #as  really  allotted  to  them  in 

that  position,  but  for  the  same  blundering  mismanagement 
which  had  seemed  to  cling  to  them  from  the  beginning. 
What  an  odd  medley  of  weapons  they  carried  away  from  New 
York,  has  already  been  seen  ;  and  it  did  not  need  any  extended 
military  experience  to  know  that  a  regiment  going  into  action 
with  thirteen  different  varieties  of  fire-arms  and  all  the  thir- 
teen in  different  stages  of  uselessness,  could  not  be  very  effi- 
cient. They  were  promised  new  arms  from  Washington  ; 
and  through  some  strange  miscalculation  which  may  have  had 
its  origin  in  Col.  Ellsworth's  unconscious  belief  that  he  was 
still  drilling  a  company  of  Chicago  Zouaves  for  exhibition 
instead  of  a  regiment  for  active  and  dangerous  service — the 
oil  a  podrida  of  weapons  had  been  left  stacked  under  guard, 
at  the  previous  camp,  and  were  again  so  deposited  at  Camp 
Decker,*  and  the  Zouaves  only  drilled  in  the  marchings  and 
facings. 

There  was  to  be  only  one  week  at  Camp  Decker,  as  there 
had  been  only  one  at  Camp  Lincoln.  Thursday  the  23d  May 
arrived.  The  fateful  Friday  was  again  approaching,  and  with 
it  the  fate  of  individuals  and  of  the  regiment.  Just  now  the 
fate  of  the  individual  is  of  even  more  consequence  than  that 
of  the  aggregate,  and  it  must  have  precedence.  There  had 
been  serious  difficulties  in  the  reception  of  letters  from  home 
by  the  regiment ;  but  at  last  some  regularity  had  been  secured, 
and  a  daily  communication  with  Washington  established 
through  the  means  of  a  boat  and  a  "special  agent";  and  at 
this  juncture  some  of  the  arrears  of  correspondence  began  to 
come  in.  Among  the  letters  received  that  Thursday  wero 
two  by  Burtnett  Haviland — one  from  his  wife  and  the  second 
from  Kate. 

The  morning  was  pleasant,  the  young  soldier  was  for  the 
time  at  leisure,  and  he  went  down  to  the  bank  of  the  Potomac 
to  secure  a  fair  opportunity  for  reading  without  interruption 
those  missives  which  should  again  brighten  the  link  binding 

*  So  named  in  honor  of  Mr.  John  Decker,  then  and  now  Chief  Engineer 
of  the  New  York  Fire  Department. — hofore  referred  to  ta  one  of  the  great 
promoters  of  the  regimental  organization. 


276  THE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

him  to  his  home.  The  Zouave  made  a  peasant  picture  ns 
hie  took  his  seat  upon  a  convenient  .stone  lying  near  the  bank, 

with  the  white  beach  shelving  below,  and  prepared  for  the 
perusal,  A  bird,  sitting  in  one  of  the  trees  near  the  bank, 
seemed  to  think  so,  for  he  sang  on  as  if  soldiers  were  not 
haunting  his  favorite  grounds  and  as  if  there  was  no  war  in 
the  land. 

"  Sing  away,  little  birdie,"  said  the  Zouave,  turning  op  a 
face  somewhat  browned  from  what  it  had  been  a  month  be- 
fore, but  trim  in  beard,  healthy  in  complexion,  and  comport- 
ing well  with  the  neatness  of  his  gray  uniform.  "  Sing 
away,  little  birdie.  Your  music  is  not  quite  so  loud  as  that 
of  Wallace's  band,  which  ft  seems  costs  too  much  to  have  any 
longer;  but  it  will  answer  as  an  undertone  while  I  read  my 
letters  from  home.  You  can't  carry  a  musket,  little  fellow, 
unless  they  make  them  very  small  up  iu  bird-paradise  ;  but 
you  have  one  advantage  of  me — if  I  had  your  wings  and 
knew  how  to  use  them  as  you  do,  I  fancy  I  should  just  pop 
over  to  New  York  to-night,  and  be  back  again  in  the 
morning  " 

«•  Whir — r — r,"  and  the  bird,  as  if  he  had  some  home  to 
look  after,  flew  away.  "  There  he  goes,1'  said  Haviland, 
breaking  the  seal  of  Mary's  letter  and  catching  it  to  his  lips 
as  he  did  so,  "  but  my  letters  remain.  Here  it  is — dear  little 
hand  ! — dear  little  wife  !"  and  he  read  on.  It  was  such  an 
epistle  as  he  had  already  received  several  times  before  from 
her  since  his  leaving  New  York,  in  spite  of  the  interruption 
of  the  mails  ;  for  the  wife  had  written  almost  daily  during  the 
first  week,  and  he  had  answered  her,  though  in  pencil  and  not 
with  his  best  chirography,  nearly  as  often.  This  letter  had 
been  written  nearly  ten  days,  but  as  the  latest  it  was  quite 
as  welcome  as  it  would  have  been  with  less  time  consumed 
in  the  delivery.  It  was  one  of  those  gentle,  cheerful,  wifely 
lfttle  epistles,  such  as  some  happy  fellows  have  the  joy  of  re- 
ceiving when  they  are  absent — all  well,  all  happy  though  a 
Utile  lonely,  with  dear  good  wishes,  and  a  love  that  could 
never  change  indicated  at  the  end  by  a  thousand  imaginary 
kisses.     To  transcribe  such  a  letter  and  expose  it  to  the  com- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  277 

mon  ga*e  would  be  little  less  than  sacrilege  against  the  most 
sacred  revelations  of  the  tenderest  of  all  human  bonds. 

Burtnett  Ilaviland  read  the  letter  twice  over,  as  if  it  had 
been  the  face  of  his  living  wife  and  he  could  not  be  quite  con- 
tented with  perusing  it.  Then  he  pressed  it  again  to  his 
lips  (this  man  was  what  the  world  would  call  a  "spoony," 
in  the  romantic  depth  of  his  affection  for  his  wife — the  writer 
is  quite  aware  of  the  fact),  laid  it  on  his  knee  and  turned  to 
the  second. 

"Kate's  funny,  hurried  hand-writing,"  he  said  as  he  broke 
the  seal.  "  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  from  her,  and  I  am  sure 
there  is  a  laugh  inside  of  this,  if  nothing  more." 

There  teas  a  laugh  within  it,  for  the  Fire  Zouave  first 
smiled  as  he  read,  then  laughed  outright  at  the  oddity  of  the 
young  girl's  conceits  in  scriptural  antiquity.  Then  suddenly 
he  laughed  no  more — his  face  sobered — and  something  like  a 
frown  settled  on  a  brow  where  frowns  had  seldom  been  in 
the  habit  of  finding  place.  "  What  is  this  she  says  ?"  he  mut- 
tered aloud.  "  Charles  Holt  carrying  around  a  picture  of 
my  urife?"  Then  he  paused  a  moment,  the  hand  containing 
the  letter  resting  on  his  knee,  and  his  face  full  of  trouble. 
"  Pshaw  !  stuff — nonsense — it  cannot  be  !  Somebody  has 
told  Kate  this,  or  she  must  have  mistaken  some  other  picture 
hurriedly  seen,  for  Mary's.  Charles  Holt  with  my  wife's  pic- 
ture in  his  possession  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  He  might  have 
taken  one  from  the  mantel  in  the  house,  when  he  came  there 
to  see  me,  but  he  certainly  would  not  have  done  so  without  a 
motive,  and  he  could  have  had  none  whatever.  I  do  not  be- 
lieve a  word  of  it." 

Burtnett  Haviland's  nature  was  too  true  and  honest  to 
make  him  very  quick  of  suspicion.  It  did  not  follow  that, 
his  suspicions  once  aroused,  he  might  not  be  found  fatally 
tenacious  of  them  and  the  most., deadly  of  enemies.  Such 
men  are  sometimes  terrible  when  the  depths  of  their  beings 
are  stirred  ;  and  it  is  never  best  to  stir  them  unpleasantly. 
But  he  had  said  that  Charle3  Holt  could  have  no  motive  for 
ssing  himself  of  his  wife's  picture  ;  and  he  could  have 
sworn,  and  would  have  sworn,  that  it  had  not  come  into  his 
hands  by  any  act  of  hers.     Still  he  did  not  feel  so  pleasantly 


278  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

n>  be  had  done  the  moment  before.  The  sunshine  was  not 
quite  so  bright,  the  bird  sung  do  longer  in  the  tree,  and  the 
yellow  Potomac  rushed  by  him  more  sullenly.  One  drop 
poisons  the  purest  spring,  and  the  fresh  waters  must  long 
trickle  down  from  the  hills  and  wash  the  polluted  fountain, 
before  the  last  trace  of  the  taint  is  borne  away.  Caesar  was 
right  when  he  said  that  his  wife  must  not  only  be  virtuous 
but  above  suspicion.  Stained  garments  may  wash  white  ; 
stained  records  seldom  do  ;  stained  reputations  never  entirely. 
It  was  just  as  well  for  Menelaus  that  Helen  went  away  with 
Paris,  though  his  life  was  thenceforth  to  be  one  of  war  on  that 
account  For  he  had  seen  the  lovelit  eyes  of  the  young 
Trojan  answered  by  glances  from  the  fair  partner  of  his 
throne,  that  made  him  rest  unquietly  on  his  lion-skin  couch 
at  night;  and  he  had  heard  of  the  young  type  of  every  manly 
grace  lying  at  her  feet,  his  sunny  curls  played  with  by  her 
tiny  white  fingers,  through  long  summer  days  of  that  fatal 
embassy  at  Sparta,  while  he  himself  was  absent  in  Crete  ; 
and  it  was  quite  as  well  that  lie  should  come  home  to  find 
the  woman  he  so  worshipped  fled  away  altogether,  as  to  lie 
by  her  side  in  mingled  love  and  doubt  and  hope  and  fear  and 
devouring  jealousy,  and  to  find  his  worst  suspicions  corrobo- 
rated at  some  future  day. 

Haviland  did  not  think  of  all  these  things,  and  yet  he  was 
unquieted.  But  the  drum  was  rolling,  up  at  the  camp,  and 
he  must  join  his  comrades.  He  took  the  two  letters,  the  one 
so  different  from  the  other  in  its  effects,  and  attempted  to  put 
them  into  the  inner  breast-pocket  of  his  Zouave  jacket.  Their 
going  in  was  obstructed  by  a  thick,  clumsy  piece  of  paper  al- 
ready there,  and  he  drew  it  out.  It  was  the  letter  received 
from  little  Tim  a  fewT  days  before,  and  almost  unconsciously  he 
opened  it.  What  was  it  that  made  the  face  of  the  Zouave 
change  so  suddenly  ?  It  had  lost  its  ruddy  smile  before,  and 
become  a  little  troubled  and  thoughtful.  Now  it  grew  dark 
as  night,  for  one  instant,  and  the  hazel  eyes  flashed  with  an 
expression  that  had  probably  never  visited  them  before  since 
they  first  opened  to  the  light.  He  saw  the  words — and  he 
could  no  more  have  removed  his  eyes  from  them  or  prevented 
their  burning  into  hi&  brain,  than  he  could  have  emulated  the 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  279 

{Ittle  bird  he  had  so  lately  apostrophized,  and  flown  away  : 
"  Mister  Holt — derri  him — doesn't  mene  no  good  to  Missers 
llevlin.  I've  seen  him  a  lookin  at  hir  when  she  was  down 
to  the  stoar,  and  a  Bmakin  of  his  lipps.  *  *  *  He  wantid  your 
to  go  away,  and  I  thoat  your  outnent  to  go.  Seems  to  me  's 
ef  your  had  better  come  back  if  your  cin." 

11  In  the  mouth  of  two  or  three  witnesses  may  every  word 
be  established,"  says  an  authority  which  we  all  reverence 
somewhat  more  than  we  obey  it:  and  good  old  Bishop  Butler 
tells  us,  in  his  "Analogy  of  Religion,"  that  while  the  rising 
of  the  sun  one  morning,  to  a  man  observing  it  for  the  first 
time,  would  only  mark  it  in  his  mind  as  a  beautiful  phenome- 
non that  had  never  been  exhibited  before  and  might  never  be 
exhibited  again,  yet  when  the  same  spectator  saw  it  rise  again 
with  precisely  the  same  surroundings,  on  the  second  morning, 
he  might  begin  to  believe  that  such  a  spectacle  was  not  un- 
usual, and  when,  he  saw  the  rising  in  the  same  manner  on  the 
third  morning,  would  be  justified  in  assuming  that  three  such 
coincidences  could  not  have  been  accidental  and  that  it  would 
probably  rise  every  morning  thenceforward.  Burtnett  Havi- 
laud  had  put  Tim's  letter  into  his  pocket  with  a  "  Pshaw  !" 
and  words  that  indicated  his  belief  that  the  little  fellow  was 
crazy :  he  had  managed  to  throw  off,  at  least  partially,  the 
disquiet  which  Kate's  information  of  the  picture  naturally 
awakened  ;  but  when  the  two  were  confronted  each  seemed 
to  assume  a  different  shape  and  consistency.  He  had  said  to 
himself,  the  moment  before,  discrediting  the  statement  of 
Kate,  that  Charles  Holt  could  have  no  motive  for  procuring 
her  picture.  He  had  totally  forgotten  the  picture  left  at  the 
store,  and  did  not  remember  it  then  or  for  a  long  time  after  - 
ward.  Motive  was  the  thing  that  had  been  wanting  to  the 
belief,  and  here  it  was,  before  supplied  in  little  Tim's  letter ; 
and  great  God  ! — what  a  motive  ! 

Tempests  may  be  blinding  in  the  fury  of  their  rain  and 
wind,  whirlwinds  may  sweep  material  objects  to  destruction 
and  swollen  rivers  rush  down  with  a  fury  defying  the  human 
hand  to  check  or  even  the  human  fancy  to  measure  ;  but  all 
the.^e  are  very  tame  and  slow  to  the  operations  of  the  mind 
of  an  active  man  when  the  flood-gates  of  a  new  thought  or 


2S0  THE       1>  A  Y  S      Q  F       8  H  u  D  1)  Y. 

especially  of  a  new  suspicion  have  just  been  opened  and  every 
thing  that  can  possibly  pear  upon  the  subject  comes  rushing 
in.  Without  one  glance  before  of  all  this,  at  once  swept 
through  the  brain  of  Haviland  all  the  events  and  recollection* 
of  the  (lavs  following  Sumter.  How  Charles  Holt  had  him- 
seli  proposed  to  make  bia  going  to  the  war  possible  by  con- 
tinuing his  .-alary,  while  he  had  not  manifested  corresponding 
anxiety  to  assist  young  Foster  in  the  same  manner;  how  the 
merchant  had  introduced  himself  into  his  house  and  tried  to 
make  his  going  away  more  certain  and  easy  (might  it  not  be 

more  deadly  ?)  by  procuring  him  a  commission  ;  how but 

here  another  thought,  darker  and  worse  than  any  of  the  others, 
crept  up  into  his  mind,  never  to  be  dislodged  thence  until 
suffering  had  done  a  work  he  then  little  conjectured.  Could 
it  be  possible  that  at  that  moment,  suddenly  learning  to  doubt 
all  others,  the  trusting  husband  of  half  an  hour  before  could 
begin  to  doubt  even  his  I'-ife?  It  could  be  possible — it  icas 
possible — it  was  true. 

Burtnett  Haviland  was  a  true,  good,  warm,  loving  hus- 
band ;  he  was  a  good  man,  a  brave  and  a  patriotic  one  ;  that 
■was  all.  He  was  neither  a  very  wise  man  nor  an  archangel. 
For  the  interest  of  this  narration  it  is  to  be  wished  that  he 
might  have  been  one  or  the  other — wise  men  are  so  rare,  and 
archangels  so  interesting.  He  had  never  for  one  instant 
doubted  his  wife,  any  more  than  he  had  doubted  God  and 
Heaven  ;  but  then  he  had  had  no  occasion.  He  had  never 
known  by  experience  the  meaning  of  that  fatal  word — jealousy  ; 
hut  then  he  had  been  so  fenced  away  from  the  necessity  of 
knowing  it  that  he  must  have  been  either  fiend  or  fool  to 
manufacture  such  a  gratuitous  torture  for  himself  and  others. 
Now  that  the  temptation  had  come,  he  was  human  and  con- 
sequently weak.  It  is  to  be  wished,  again,  that  he  had  not 
been  so — that  it  was  the  task  of  the  writer  to  set  down  upon 
this  page  the  record  of  one  more  man  who  had  implicit  and 
abiding  faith  in  woman,  and  fortitude  to  believe  her  true 
under  every  appearance  of  falsehood.  There  is  nothing 
nobler  in  all  dramatic  literature  than  the  conduct  of  Gonzoya, 
in  Sheridan  Knowles'  great  drama,  "  The  Wife" — maddened 
by  accusations  against  the  fair  fame  of  the  lady  of  his  love, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  281 

and  yet  never  faltering  for  one  moment  in  the  belief  that  anv 
appearance  against  her,  even  to  the  apparent  passing  of  the 

night  in  her  chamber  by  the  reprobate  St.  Pierre,  must  be 
the  result  of  eonspiraey  against  her,  and  eonld  not  indicate 
any  thing  against  her  truth.  But  Gonzagas  of  this  creation 
art  rare,  if,  indeed,  they  exist  outside  of  the  creative  genius 
of  the  dramatic  poet.  The  true  measure  of  the  possibility  of 
jea  !«>iisy.  though  not  of  jealousy  itself,  is  probably  to  be  found 
in  the  two  conditions  of  love  and  trial.  Ko  man  can  be  truly 
jealous,  who  does  not  love  :  perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  no 
man  who  loves,  is  beyond  the  possibility  of  jealousy  when 
subjected  to  the  full  severity  of  trial.  Men  have  been  found 
who  even  jested  at  the  word  and  passed  through  all  the  rela- 
tions of  life  without  one  moment  of  that  painful  experience; 
and  vet  when  the  hair  has  grown  gray  upon  their  brows  and 
that  age  come  to  them  when  the  fiercer  passions  should  all 
have  been  laid  at  rest,  the  demon  of  jealousy  has  awoke  to 
stir  them  to  new  exertion  or  to  mar  their  peace.  They  have 
found  a  new  love,  stirring  their  beings  to  a  depth  before  un- 
known, or  they  have  been  placed  under  trial  before  undreamed 
of;  and  the  capabilities  of  their  natures  have  then  been 
proved  to  be  the  same  as  those  of  other  men.  To  all  which 
may  be  added  that  the  possibility  of  jealousy  is  something 
like  temptation  to  any  vice  :  beyond  a  certain  point  of  oppres- 
sion the  resistive  power  ceases  and  the  field  so  gloriously  con- 
toted  is  lost. 

At  that  moment  and  from  that  moment  Burtnett  Haviland 
doubted  his  wife.  Not  that  he  believed  her  to  be  guilty,  but 
that  the  impression  seemed  unavoidable  that  she  was  weak 
and  in  consequence  unsafe.  lie  remembered,  now,  how 
warmly  the  merchant  had  been  received  by  her — a  subject 
of  congratulation  to  him,  then,  that  she  would  have  a  power- 
ful friend  remaining  near  her;  a  subject  of  suffering,  now, 
that  she  might  be  under  the  influence  of  an  unscrupulous 
enemy.  And  something  more.  Oh,  how  we  can  turn  every 
thing  to  self-torture,  when  the  mood  is  upon  us!  Does  the 
reader  remember  with  what  heroic  determination  Mary  Havi- 
land had  kept  down  her  tears  and  her  regrets  at  his  coming 
absence,  from  the  moment  her  husband  read  her  that  stern 


282  THE      I)  A  Y  S      OF      SHODDY. 

lesson  of  duty  in  the  picture  of  Valley  Forge,  and  how  she 
bad  martyred  her  own  heart  to  send  him  away  from  her  with- 
out a  sad  thought  of  their  parting  ?  That  day,  on  the  hanks 
of  the  Potomac,  that  very  absence  of  tears  and  spoken  regrets 
came  up  as  a  witness  against  her!  Absorbed  in  a  new 
friendship,  if  nothing  warmer  and  dearer,  the  wife  of  his  love 
and  the  mother  of  his  child  had  been  almost  willing  to  have 
him  leave  her.  Cruel — unjust — mad,  of  course,  all  this,  on 
the  part  of  that  tortured  thinker  ;  but  it  is  a  truth,  if  a  sof? 
rowful  truth,  that  is  being  recorded. 

Again  that  drum.  Some  movement  was  certainly  going 
on  in  camp.  This  feeling  must  he  shaken  off  at  every  hazard. 
The  Zouave,  who  had  some  time  before  risen  from  his  stony 
seat  and  been  pacing  the  young  sod  on  the  river  bank,  turned 
to  walk  toward  the  camp.  As  he  did  so,  a  couple  of  New 
York  city  visitors,  iii  company  with  one  of  the  officers  of  the 
regiment,  came  down  towards  the  river,  and  they  met.  As 
they  exchanged  greetings,  one  of  them,  a  subordinate  city- 
official  and  an  acquaintance  who  had  sometimes  visited  at 
Haviland's  house  with  his  sister,  said  : — 

"Why,  Haviland,  you  look  dull.  What  is  the  matter? 
Unwell  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  the  Zouave.  "  Perhaps  a  little  bilious — 
nothing  more." 

"I  hope  they  are  all  well  at  home  ?  You  have  had  letters, 
I  suppose  ?  I  have  not  seen  your  people  for  some  time, 
though  by  the  way,  I  did  see  your  wife  the  other  evening, 
but  did  not  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  her.  She  was  at  the 
Winter  Garden,  and  looked  very  well." 

"Ah,  indeed?  Glad  to  hear  that  she  was  enjoying  herself. 
That  was  what  I  told  her  to  do,  when  I  came  away,"'  answered 
the  Zouave,  something  a  little  forced  in  his  utterance,  mean- 
while, that  the  friend  did  not  notice.  "Did  you  see  who 
was  with  her  ?" 

"  Eh  ?"  said  the  Xew  Yorker,  pleasantly — "  want  to  know 
that,  do  you  ?  Well,  really  I  don't  know.  She  was  in  a 
private  box  with  a  gentleman — one  of  her  relatives,  probably 

a  rather   fine-looking   middle-aged   man,  with   short  sido- 

whiskers  and  dressed  very  handsomely." 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  283 

"Oh  yes,  I  know.  One  of  her  cousins,  from  Boston — Mr. 
Williams,"  Haviland  managed  to  utter,  and  the  friend,  with 
a  nod,  passed  on  down  to  the  river.  How  he  managed  to 
articulate  that  falsehood,  he  never  knew  himself,  for  the 
words  he  had  just  heard,  coming  immediately  after  what  had 
before  occurred,  struck  and  stunned  him  as  a  blow  on  the 
head  might  have  done,  and  the  words  that  he  uttered  inter- 
nally at  the  same  moment  were  :  "  Great  God  ! — what  next  ? 
That  man  is  Charles  Holt !" 

Two  minutes  after,  Captain  Jack  was  standing  on  parade, 
his  company  forming  and  evident  bustle  throughout  the  whole 
camp.  Burtnett  Haviland  strode  rather  than  walked  up  to 
him,  his  face  darker  than  any  man  had  ever  before  seen  it, 
touched  his  hat  in  military  style  to  the  officer,  and  said,  in  a 
low  voice  but  one  that  evinced  much  earnestness  : — 

"  Captain,  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  great  favor.  I  want  you 
to  get  me  a  few  days'  furlough,  to  go  to  New  York." 

"I  am  sorry  you  ask  it  just  now,  Mr.  Haviland,"  said  the 
Captain.  "  I  would  do  any  thing  in  my  power,  for  you,  you 
know ;  but  I  am  afraid  Colonel  Ellsworth  will  not  wish  to 
spare  a  man.  Your  face  looks  troubled — nobody  dead,  I 
hope  I" 

"  Xo,"  said  the  Zouave.  "But  for  certain  reasons  I  wish 
to  go  to  New  York  at  once — this  very  day  if  possible." 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  possible,  if  you  have  not  the  excuse 
of  a  death,"  said  the  Captain.  "I  was  just  wondering  why  I 
did  not  see  you  at  your  place  in  the  first  file.  Don't  you  see 
the  muskets  coming,  yonder  ?  We  have  been  here  a  month, 
you  know,  and  done  nothing.  The  Colonel  is  half  crazy,  and 
I  fancy  we  are  all  anxious  to  have  something  to  do.  I  tell 
you  as  a  friend,  not  as  your  officer,  that  this  regiment  must 
drill  hard  in  the  firings  and  general  use  of  the  musket,  to-day, 
as  wo  are  under  orders  for  secret  service  to-night." 

"  To-night !"  echoed  Haviland. 

"Yes,  to-night,"  said  the  Captain.  "You  see  how  difficult 
it  would  be  to  get  a  furlough  for  any  purpose,  and  besides — " 

"Besides,"  said  Haviland,  as  Captain  Jack  paused,  "it 
would  not  look  very  well  to  go  away  just  when  the  regiment 
was  going  into  a  fight  ?     Eh,  Captain  ?" 


234  THE      D  A  Y  S      OF      SHOD  D  Y . 

"That  was  what  I  meant,"  was  the  reply. 

"Just  so,"  said  the  private,  "and  I  hope  you  know  me 
well  enough  to  believe  that  I  would  not  ask  for  a  furlough 
under  such  circumstances,  or  even  take  one  if  offered.  I  did 
not  know  there  was  to  be  any  movement,  of  course.  If 
there  is  to  be  any  work,  count  me  in  for  my  share  of  it,  and 
be  kind  enough  to  forget  that  I  said  any  thing  on  the  sub- 
ject." 

"  I  know,  of  course,  that  you  had  not  heard  the  report 
when  you  made  the  request.  All  right  !"  said  the  Captain  ; 
and  giving  and  receiving  another  salute,  the  private  stepped 
quickly  to  his  company,  received  his  weapon  and  took  his 
place  in  the  ranks.  Perhaps  nothing  could  have  been  more 
grateful  to  him,  at  that  moment,  than  this  promise  of  imme- 
diate action,  that,  if  it  would  not  put  him  entirely  at  ease, 
would  at  least  drown  too  rapid  thought  and  make  anxiety 
comparatively  endurable.  To  some  extent  his  private  griefs 
were  to  be  swept  away  in  the  public  service,  as  his  private 
affairs  are  again  to  be,  for  a  time,  merged  in  the  fortunes  of 
the  regiment. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Fire  Zouaves  on  Secret  Service — Landing  at  Alex- 
andria— The  First  Capture  of  the  AVar — IIuw  the 
Zouaves  became  Kailroad  Laborers — Taking  the  Fair- 
fax Cavalry — A  "  Fire  in  the  Rear,"  of  Unpleasant 
Character — A  Startling  Report — The  Death  and  mad 
imprudence  of  Colonel  Ellsworth. 

"  Secret  service"  was  the  word  used  by  Captain  Jack  to 
Haviland,  as  expressive  of  the  peculiar  condition  in  which 
the  regiment  was  at  once  to  be  placed,  rendering  any  fur- 
lough difficult  if  not  impossible  to  obtain.  And  "secret  ser- 
vice" was  the  word  that  had  been  for  an  hour  previous  run- 
ning around  the  camp,  seeming  to  have  arrived  with  the  new 


T  TI  E      DAYS      (>F      SHODDY.  285 

weapons.  Where  or  for  what  purpose,  no  one  seemed  to 
have    any  idea,  and  it  may  be   said  that;  no  one  had    any 

anxiety  on  the  subject,  The  Zouaves  were  as  unquestion- 
ably bravo,  personally,  as  restless  and  undisciplined  as  a 
b<>dv  ;  and  to  them  any  change,  especially  if  it  involved  that 
**fighti"  for  which  they  had  been  "  spoiling,"  seemed  prefer- 
able to  the  comparative  monotony  of  camp  life.  They  could 
not  know,  nor  was  it  necessary  they  should  do  so,  that  a  gen- 
eral movement  of  the  forces  at  Washington  into  Virginia, 
was  to  take  place  that  night,  under  favor  of  the  "bright  May 
moon."  The  new  arms  proved  to  be  Springfield  muskets, 
for  all  the  regiment  except  the  two  flank  companies,  for  the 
latter  of  which  Enfield  rifles  were  supplied.  And  all  the 
balance  of  the  day  the  Zouaves  drilled  in  what  they  should 
have  been  instructed  in  from  the  beginning — the  loadings, 
firings  and  general  use  of  their  weapons.  Thoroughly  tired 
were  even  those  hardy  fellows,  when  the  evening  closed  down 
and  the  drill  was  exchanged  for  the  striking  of  tents  and 
other  preparations  for  the  immediate  evacuation  of  Camp 
Decker,  to  all  which  the  light  of  the  full  moon  lent  a  welcome 
aid. 

It  was  midnight  before  the  steamboats  that  were  to  carry 
the  Fire  Argonauts  on  their  expedition,  which  they  had  a 
premonition  would  be  likely  to  thin  the  ranks  of  some  of 
them  and  hand  them  over  to  the  mercies  of  Dr.  Gray,  the 
Crimean  surgeon, — arrived  in  the  river  opposite  and  made 
preparations  for  taking  them  on  board.  These  were  two 
river-craft  of  no  especial  note  then  or  afterwards — the  Mount 
Vernon  and  James  Gray.  But  even  those  moderate  craft 
could  not  make  a  landing  at  the  river  bank,  on  account  of  the 
slope  of  the  sandy  beach,  and  the  soldiers  were  obliged  to  go 
on  board  by  means  of  a  bridge  of  boats  (the  launches  of  the 
Pawnee),  serious  if  not  dangerous  delay  being  caused  by  that 
necessity.  It  was  perhaps  two  o'clock  when  the  last  man 
Btepped  over  the  side,  and  the  first  faint  premonitions  of  day 
bi  gan  to  tint  the  eastern  sky  as  they  steamed  silently  as  pos- 
sible down  the  Potomac.  Not  till  the  day  was  fairly  breaking, 
and  they  were  oil"  Alexandria  and  heading  in  for  the  shove, 
with  the  dark  hulk  of  the  Pawnee  lying  in  the  river  beyond 


2SG  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

as  a  sullen  and  silent  witness  of  this  first  wnr  movement  of 
the  Federal  forces, — did  they  heroine  thoroughly  certain  of 
their  destination.     Their  orders  were,  they  then  understood, 

to  capture  that  dilapidated  old  town,  important  from  its  posi- 
tion, eminently  secession  in.  its  popular  tendencies,  and  well- 
known  to  be  sheltering  a  rebel  force  more  or  less  numerous. 

The  boys  were  well  in  towards  the  town  before  any  notice 
seemed  to  be  taken  of  them  by  the  rebel  sentries  posted  on 
the  wharves  and  around  the  warehouses  that  just  began  to 
have  their  dark  and  mouldy  sides  touched  by  the  first  light 
of  morning.  Crack! — crack! — went  the  warning  muskets, 
however,  the  moment  the  discovery  was  made  ;  and  the  gray 
figures  of  the  sentries  could  be  seen  dodging  rapidly  away 
from  what  they  evidently  believed  to  be  a  dangerous  neigh- 
borhood. It  may  have  been  a  mark  of  enthusiasm,  but  it 
certainly  indicated  any  thing  rather  than  discipline — that  a 
dozen  or  two  of  muskets  were  discharged,  without  orders, 
towards  the  flying  pickets,  at  such  distances  that  the  shots 
could  not  possibly  do  any  good  or  any  harm, — and  that  loud 
cheers  burst  from  the  throats  of  the  Zouaves,  as  if  over  the 
capture  of  a  town  which  they  were  as  yet  only  approaching. 
But  then  our  aborigines  always  attacked  with  shouts  and 
war-whoops ;  and  the  fire-boys  generally  yell  a  little  louder 
when  going  to  a  fire  than  when  going  home  from  one  that 
has  already  been  extinguished  ! 

Xo  resistance  whatever  was  offered  to  the  landing;  and 
the  pickets  once  out  of  sight,  there  was  nothing  left  to  mark 
the  existence  of  a  hostile  force  in  the  town,  as,  in  broad  day- 
light and  with  the  sun  just  coming  up  beyond  the  Potomac, 
Colonel  Ellsworth  stepped  with  his  Zouaves  on  the  old  wharves 
at  Alexandria — captors,  so  far  without  a  struggle,  of  the  first 
rebel  town  to  fall  into  Federal  hands.  His  exact  position 
and  the  orders  under  which  he  was  acting  (or  not  acting) 
were  only  known  to  himself  and  perhaps  his  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  ;  but  as  the  whole  details  are  now  unfortunately  too 
well  known,  they  may  be  briefly  given  at  this  period. 

Col.  Wilcox,  commanding  the  Fort  Michigan,  had  been 
ordered,  as  senior  officer,  to  take  his  own  and  the  Fire  Zouave 
regiments,  with  one  of  the  United  States  batteries,  and  effect 


THE      DAYS      OF      STTODDY.  287 

the  rapture  of  A  loxandria.  The  Zouaves  were  to  jro  flown 
by  steamboat,  in  the  manner  already  shown,  while  the  Michi- 
gan regiment  was  to  cross  the  Potomac  and  make  the  march 
by  land.  The  two  regiments  were  to  effect  a  junction,  or  at 
least  concert  the  attack  upon  the  town  before  entering  it,  and 
Col.  Wilcox  of  course  to  hold  the  right  of  making  the 'final 
dispositions.  In  pursuance  of  this  plan,  Col.  Wilcox,  with  his 
regiment  and  the  battery  of  four  pieces,  had  left  Washington 
by  the  Long  Bridge,  at  nearly  the  same  time  as  the  embarka- 
tion of  the  Zouaves,  and  must  have  been,  afthe  time  of  their 
landing,  rapidly  approaching  the  town.  Col  Ellsworth,  how- 
ever, bravely  insubordinate  himself  and  therefore  the  last  man 
in  the  world  to  teach  subordination  to  a  regiment  of  peculiarly 
independent  character,  had  been  unable  to  repress  his  desire 
to  strike  the  first  blow  in  the  War  for  the  Union  ;  and  his  land- 
ing without  artillery  and  without  concert  with  his  superior, 
had  been  the  consequence.  It  may  be  that  the  difference 
between  the  fate  of  the  two  officers  was  at  that  moment  marked 
by  Providence  as  the  result  of  the  partial  obedience  to  orders 
of  the  one  and  the  absolute  obedience  of  the  other  :  the  one 
to  lie  in  a  grave  too  early  for  his  abilities  and  conferring  no 

benefit,  even  if  honor,  on  the  great  cause  by  his  death the 

other  to  suffer  hardship  and  imprisonment,  but  to  wear  event- 
ually the  star  of  a  Brigadier  and  do  long  and  important  ser- 
vice in  the  struggle. 

Such  had  been  the  arrangement,  and  such  the  departure 
from  it.  But  the  young  Zouave  Colonel  had  doubtless  his 
own  plane  and  purposes,  that  death,  hovering  then  in  the  air 
above  him  though  unseen  by  mortal  eye,  was  so  soon  to  seal 
up  from  mortal  knowledge  ;  and  whether  acting  entirely  upon 
his  own  judgment,  or  from  partial  conference  with  his  supe- 
rior, he  at  once  gave  a  first  order  which  showed  some  appre- 
ciation of  the  military  position.  This  was  to  Captain  Jack, 
to  take  his  company  of  eighty  men,  as  the  most  thoroughly 
disciplined  and  reliable  in  the  regiment,  march  rapidly  across 
the  town,  secure  what  rolling-stock  might  be  found  at  the 
Depot  of  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  Railroad,  and  tear  up 
the  track  beyond  the  Depot  in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent 


2RS  THE      DAYS      OF      &.HODDY, 

the  removal  of  any  munitions  of  war  or  the  arrival  or  depart- 
ure of  any  rebel  troops  by  rail. 

No  sooner  was  the  order  given  than  it  was  promptly  obeyed  ; 
and  Burtnett  Ilaviland,  who  had  already  participated  in  the 
capture  of  the  first  town  taken  by  Union  troops,  was  thus  sent 
into  participation  in  the  first  capture  of  rebel  soldiery,  as  well 
as  into  peril  so  deadly  that  no  ordinary  chance  of  war  could 
be  likely  to  blot  away  the  recollection. 

It  was  now  some  time  past  sunrise,  when  Captain  Jack's 
company  filed  rapidly  tip  King  Street  towards  the  Railroad 
Depot  lying  some  two  miles  away.  The  very  heart  of  the 
town  was  to  be  crossed  ;  but  so  far  as  any  signs  of  life  were 
concerned,  the  command  might  almost  as  well  have  been 
traversing  some  city  of  the  dead.  One  third  of  the  inhabi- 
tants had  fled  at  the  first  alarm — the  rest  had  concealed  them- 
selves. Here  and  there,  around  some  corner  of  the  miserable 
tumble-down  place  a  male  figure  could  be  occasionall}r  seen, 
but  it  shuffled  away  as  rapidly,  at  sight  of  the  soldiers,  as  legs 
could  very  well  carry  it.  Occasionally  a  slip-shod  woman,  or 
a  lounging  negro,  could  be  seen  dodging  along  one  of  the  ill- 
paved  streets,  but  even  they  seemed  as  apprehensive  as  all 
the  other  inhabitants,  that  neither  life  nor  property  was  safe 
under  the  Zouave  invasion.  At  times,  too,  Captain  Jack  and 
his  men  could  see  a  movement  of  some  half- closed  shutter, 
indicating  that  vengeful  eyes,  whether  of  male  or  female, 
might  be  flashing  through  crannies,  while  the  lips  between 
them  might  be  muttering  male  curses  or  saying  female  pray- 
ers backwards ;  and  it  would  not  have  surprised  any  of  the 
more  intelligent  members  of  the  company,  if  at  any  moment 
the  crack  of  a  rifle  had  come  suddenly  from  some  one  of  the 
closed  houses  and  put  the  locked  step  of  the  Zouaves  into 
confusion.  Whatever  the  "  Union  feeling"  so  anxiously 
looked  for,  might  be  elsewhere,  there  was  evidently  little  or 
nothing  of  it  in  Alexandria  ;  and  though  on  some  spots  in  the 
Old  Dominion  it  was  believed  that  the  coming  of  the  Federal 
soldiers  would  be  hailed  as  a  deliverance  from  hated  tyranny, 
too  certainly  here  it  was  only  regarded  as  an  inroad  of  that 
tyranny  itself. 

And  here  perhaps  it  may  be  proper  to  say  a  word  more 


t  ir  e     d  a  y  3    v)  ]'    g  n  o  i)  n  v.  289 

with  reference  to  that  "  Union  feeling1'  at  the  South,  which 
has  caused  so  many  disputes  and  contradictions  at  the  North, 
and  the  existence  or  non-existence  of  which  has  been  a 
question  as  steadily  mooted  as  was  that  of  the  sea-serpent 
shortly  after  that  terrible  marine  nondescript  made  his  first 
appearance  in  the  shape  of  two  or  three  barrels  lashed 
together  with  old  ropes,  off  Nahant.  To  some  it  does  exist, 
to  others  it  does  not — even  in  the  same  spot.  Generally 
Speaking,  however,  it  is  found  to  be,  where  its  existence 
would  be  of  any  service  to  the  Union  cause,  very  much  like 
the  benevolence  of  that  gentleman  who  never  gave  anything 
to  any  charity — "neither  here  nor  there."  And  it  has  per- 
haps been  unreasonable  to  expect  it — at  least  under  the  sur- 
rounding circumstances.  The  government,  from  the  beginning, 
have  taken  no  pains  to  foster  and  very  little  to  protect  it, 
while  the  rebel  authorities,  in  their  own  behalf,  have  done 
both  for  the  opposite  feeling.  The  property  of  the  rankest 
rebel  has  been  protected  and  his  person  held  sacred,  when  the 
Union  troops  have  taken  possession  of  any  district  before  held 
by  the  Confederates;  and  however  ultra  may  have  been  his 
offences  against  loyalty,  there  has  been  no  more  thought  of 
punishing  him  than  there  habitually  is  of  meting  out  justice 
to  one  of  the  roughs  of  the  "  dangerous  districts"  of  New 
York  city,  who  belongs  to  the  dominant  faction,  is  a  useful 
man  at  elections,  and  has  only  shot  one  of  the  poor  devils 
who  intended  to  vote  the  wrong  way  !  The  offence  of  the 
rough  is  "  bailable."  and  eventually  forgotten  or  rather  looked 
upon  as  a  virtue  :  that  of  the  rebel  is  passed  over  for  "  policy" 
sake,  and  eventually  forgotten  if  not.  rewarded.  When  the 
rebels  take  possession  of. a  district  in  which  the  Union  power 
has  before  been  dominant  (though,  to  be  sure,  their  oppor- 
tunities in  that  line  arc  something  like  the  liabilities  of  the 
unfortunate  company  who  have  been  making  a  costly  play- 
thing out  of  the  Great  Eastern — limited)  they  dragoon  every 
man  who  is  either  known  or  suspected  to  have  rendered  aid 
and  comfort  to  the  "  Yankee  invader,"  and  if  he  finally  escapes 
with  his  neck  he  certainly  does  not  with  any  thing  to  feed  or 
clothe  the  other  parts  of  the  body.  It  has  therefore  become, 
very  naturally,  the  part  of  prudence  to  espouse  the  Confederate 
18 


290  T  n  E      D  A  Y  S      0  F      S  II  0  I;  I»  Y. 

cause,  as  no  one  can  say  when  the  tide  of  battle  may  turn 
sufficiently  for  the  overrunning  of  a  small  section,  and  the 
Confederates  both  punish  the  refractory  and  protect  the 
"patriotic"  (in  their  way)  as  the  Federals  do  not.  A.-  well 
might  a  crop  of  wheat  be  expected  to  spring  from  the  trodden 
paving-stones  of  Broad  Street  or  Wall,  as  Union  sentiment 
where  its  manifestation  is  likely  to  bring  punishment  and 
cannot  bring  protection.  What  the  early  colonists  learned 
of  the  savages  might  long  ago  have  been  learned  by  the 
descendants  of  those  colonists,  had  they  been  even  respect- 
ably wise  and  observant.  So  many  of  the  Indian  tribes  as 
they  taught  by  force  of  arms  that  it  was  safer  and  cheaper  to 
be  friends  than  enemies  with  the  whites,  became  and  re- 
mained their  friends  :  so  many  as  they  failed  to  teach  that 
needed  lesson  were  and  remained  their  bitter  and  injurious 
foes.  Wherever  the  hand  of  the  Federal  Union  is  proved  to 
be  stronger  than  the  grasp  of  that  black  mongrel  which  has 
sprung  from  the  unHoly  embrace  of  Southern  treason  and 
Northern  fanaticism — secession, — there  will  be  found  ''Union 
feeling"  ;  and  that  man  is  a  fool  who  expects  to  find  it  else- 
where. 

Perhaps  the  whole  idea  may  be  illustrated  more  drolly 
and  yet  not  a  whit  less  earnestly,  by  the  experience  of  the 
bank-clerk  and  the  French  depositor,  during  that  period 
of  depression  following  the  United  States  Bank  explosion. 
Pierre  had  money  in  the  bank  ;  the  banks  were  breaking  all 
around  him  ;  therefore  Pierre  came  to  draw  his  money  out 
of  the  bank.  He  was  red  of  face  and  terribly  excited  :  the 
clerk  was  cool  and  equable.  Pierre  demanded  his  money, 
with  many  hard  words  and  many  exclamations  that  he 
"  vant  him  ver  mooch,  and  must  'ave  him  immediate — yes 
by  gar  !"  The  clerk  drew  out  his  money  and  handed  it  over. 
"Tat  !"  said  the  depositor,  "you  'ave  my  monish  ?"  "Cer- 
tainly," said  the  clerk.  "  You  'ave  him  all  ze  times  ?" 
queried  the  depositor.  "Of  course,"  said  the  clerk.  "Zen 
by  gar,"  said  the  depositor,  "  I  not  vant  him  at  all  !"  "  What 
do  you  mean  by  your  shilly-shallying  ?"  said  the  clerk.  "  If 
you  want  your  money,  say  so  and  take  it  along  ;  if  you- 
do  not,  don't  bother  !"     "  Eh,  by  gar,"  said  the  Frenchman- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  291 

putting  the  great  financial  question  of  confidence  in  a  new 
light,  "  zis  is  vat  I  mean.  If  you  no  'ave  my  monish,  so 
zat  I  can't  get  him  nevare,  zen  I  vant  him  ver  mooch,  all  ze 
times.  If  you  'ave  my  monish,  so  zat  I  can  get  him  ven  I 
vant  him,  zen  I  no  vant  him  at  all !"  Wherever  the  Union 
forces  stand  in  such  a  relation  to  the  rebels  that  the  exist- 
ence of  "  Union  feeling"  is  necessary  to  turn  the  balance  and 
give  eventual  success,  there  will  be  none  to  render  that  aid  : 
wherever  the  power  of  the  government  is  thrown  forward  in 
such  overwhelming  force  that  it  asks  no  aid  to  achieve  suc- 
cess and  can  command  what  it  would  otherwise  be  obliged  to 
ask — there  will  be  Union  sentiment  in  abundance. 

Though  there  are  and  have  been  throughout  the  war,  noble 
and  glorious  examples  of  devotion  to  the  old  flag  and  desire 
for  its  regained  supremacy,  in  the  very  heart  of  the  disloyal 
territory,  and  though  whole  communities  may  be  eventually 
found  in  which  the  true  feelings  of  the  people  would  incline 
to  loyalty  if  permitted, — yet,  taken  as  a  great  average,  rebel- 
dom  is  about  as  rebellious  as  human  nature  is  said  to  be 
human  ;  and  that  military  leader  or  that  ruler  who  depends 
upon  Union  sentiment  for  any  considerable  assistance,  except 
as  he  compels  it,  will  find  the  same  splendid  success  once 
achieved  by  the  aquatic  experimentalist  who  tied  bladders  to 
his  feet  and  depended  upon  them  to  keep  him  above  water, 
in  his  first  dash  at  swimming.  Military  success  is  the  touch- 
stone for  evoking  fealty  to  the  Union,  in  any  part  of  the 
rebel  territory  over  which  it  sweeps  ;  and-  let  no  man  lean 
upon  a  staff  of  less  unfailing  dependence.  It  is  scarce!} 
necessary  to  say,  in  returning  to  the  single  event  from  which 
we  have  so  widely  digressed,  the  march  of  Captain  Jack  and 
his  handful  of  Zouaves  through  Alexandria, — that  there  had 
then  been  no  time  for  the  acquirement  of  all  this  wisdom 
since  attained  at  so  costly  a  price,  but  that  this  earliest  cap- 
ture of  the  war  was  made  upon  the  plan  afterwards  to 
become  so  popular — force  inadequate  if  not  contemptible,  no 
overwhelming  power  to  overawe  treason,  and  of  course  no 
invitation  of  corresponding  strength,  to  that  loyal  sentiment 
which  may  have  been  lying  dormant  in  the  poisoned  com- 
munity. 


292  THE      D  A  T  S      0  F      S  II  0  D  D  Y. 

Slowly  and  steadily  the  Zouaves  hold  on  tlioir  way,  how- 
ever, in  close  order,  in  comparative  silence,  and  ready  for  any 
hostile  demonstration.  Something  more  than  half  an  hour  at 
rapid  step,  and  they  were  in  sight  of  the  Orange  and  Alex- 
andria Depot.  A  train  was  just  shooting  away,  loaded  with 
munitions,  valuables,  and  fleeing  men,  women  and  children  ; 
and  another,  in  sight,  had  just  been  hailed  by  the  people  at 
the  Depot  and  ordered  to  back  away  as  rapidly  as  possible — 
an  order  which  was  being  executed  with  all  haste.  At  the 
same  moment  that  this  spectacle  met  the  view  of  the  com- 
pany, some  of  the  scouts  who  had  been  thrown  forward, 
brought  in  word  that  at  the  Slave-Pen,  a  block  away  to  the 
right  and  hidden  by  the  intervening  buildings,  a  rebel  cavalry 
company  seemed  mounting  for  attack  or  flight.  There  was 
evidently  work  ahead,  but  of  what  character  the  Captain  could 
not  well  decide  at  that  moment.  One  point  was  clear — the 
track  of  the  road,  the  subject  of  his  first  instructions,  must  be 
torn  up  instantly,  to  prevent  any  further  movements  of  the 
rolling-stock.  Another — that  when  engaged  in  the  labor  of 
tearing  up  the  track,  his  men  would  not  be  favorably  situated 
to  receive  a  headlong  cavalry-charge,  unless — and  at  this  point 
the  quick  eye  of  the  Captain  caught  the  solution  of  the  pro- 
blem in  a  moment. 

Only  a  hundred  or  two  of  yards  beyond  the  Depot  the  rail- 
road entered  a  cutting  of  considerable  depth,  and  there  the 
work  must  be  done.  Vulnerable  as  his  command  might  be 
to  a  cavalry-charge  of  possibly  much  superior  numbers,  when 
half  of  them  should  be  acting  as  railroad-laborers  of  the 
reverse  order, — the  cavalrymen  would  be  able  to  make  but  a 
moderate  charge  through  a  cutting  where  the  only  footing  for 
their  horses  must  be  among  railroad-ties  and  iron-rails. 
Quick  as  the  thought  had  been,  necessarily  was  the  action 
upon  it.  A  moment  threw  the  Zouaves  between  the  walls  of 
the  embankment ;  and  in  five  or  ten  the  tough  fellows,  fancy- 
ing for  the  time  that  they  were  digging  out  some  buried 
.•omrade  from  the  ruins  of  a  fire  at  home,  had  so  deranged 
ibe  track  of  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  road  in  that  imme- 
diate vicinity,  that  neither  car  nor  locomotive  was  likely  to 
go  over  it  until  extensive  repairs  should  be  completed.     Had 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  293 

they  been  aware  what  a  S3Tstem  of  railroad  destruction  on 
both  sides  they  were  assisting  to  inaugurate,  to  go  on  until 
nearly  one-third  the  whole  railroad  wealth  of  the  country 
should  lie  in  ruins, — even  the  well-sens* med  men  who  had 
grown  used  to  seeing  Mrs.  Fitz-Finnick's  pearl-and-rosewood 
piano  rolling  down  stairs  at  a  fire,  her  costly  mirrors  shied 
out  of  the  window,  and  her  tapestry  carpets  soaked  and 
thrown  over  a  gutter  to  prevent  its  catching  blaze  from  the 
heat — might  have  paused  in  horror  as  they  pried  up  rails  and 
sent  ties  and  sleepers  into  one  wreck  of  confusion. 

But  they  had  little  time  to  think  of  these  things,  even  if 
they  had  the  disposition.  The  task  was  scarcely  done  when 
won!  eame  to  the  Captain  from  his  scouts  that  the  cavalry 
was  certainly  mounting  and  forming,  apparently  for  a  charge, 
and  no  one  could  say  what  additional  force,  infantry  or  cav- 
alry, might  have  come  up  in  the  interval.  The  cavalry  must 
not  be  allowed  to  form.  Moments  were  pressing,  as  they  had 
indeed  been  all  the  while  since  the  landing.  The  company 
were  evidently  on  their  good  behavior,  for  they  obeyed  like 
old  soldiers,  and  dropping  pries  and  seizing  muskets  they 
formed  again  at  a  word.  Double-quick  back  to  the  corner 
of  the  street  at  the  Depot,  then  sharp  to  the  left  for  one  long 
block,  down  the  lateral  one  that  ran  beside  it,  and  facing 
across  the  street  to  the  west  they  were  in  full  view  of  the 
Slave  Pen  and  the  cavalry  that  threatened  fight  or  escape. 

"  Price,  Birch  &  Go.,  Dealers  in  Slaves,"  (so  read  their 
singularly  suggestive  sign  over  the  door,  indicative  of  whip- 
ping as  well  as  selling)  had  evidently  for  the  time  ceased  the 
slave  business.  They  had  had  "a  good  thing  of  it"  (to 
quote  one  more  expressive  modernism)  in  other  and  more 
peaceful  days,  judging  by  the  extent  of  their  accommodations 
for  what  Exeter  Hall  hates  but  England  loves.  In  front 
stood  a  large  brick  dwelling-house,  and  behind  it  two  im- 
mense slave-pens  (literally  jails  or  prisons)  also  of  brick, 
one  each  for  males  and  females,  the  walls  some  twenty  or 
twenty-live  feet  high,  and  the  doors  and  windows  so  strongly 
grated  with  iron  as  not  to  indicate  that  the  occupants  were  in 
the  habit  of  clinging  to  their  temporary  home  with  peculiar 
tenacity.     Just  then  they  had  all  gone  out  (as  the  Zouaves 


294:         ,         THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

afterwards  found)  with  a  single  exception  remaining  in  the 
male  department,  and  that  single  exception,  oddly  enough, 
bearing  the  name  of  "  George  Washington,"  Price,  Birch  & 
Co. 's  building  had  ceased  to  be  a  pen  for  black  slaves,  and 
become  the  quarters  of  a  part  of  the  military  power  of  the 
budding  Confederacy.  In  front,  some  mounting,  some  at- 
tempting to  form  into  line  with  the  others,  and  some  riding 
around  to  the  rear  of  the  building  and  apparently  getting 
away,  was  a  squadron  of  the  Fairfax  Cavalry,  in  their  gray 
coats  and  broad  black  hats — capitally  mounted  though  some- 
what shabbily  equipped,  and  lookiug  as  if  they  might  be 
dangerous  foes  under  different  circumstances. 

Quick  as  thought,  at  the  word  of  command,  the  Zouaves 
covered  the  cavalry  with  their  pieces,  and  every  motion  at 
mounting  or  forming  or  riding  away  was  suspended  as  if  each 
of  the  horsemen  had  been  suddenly  turned  to  stone.  They 
were  caught — overpowered — helpless  ;  there  was  no  alter- 
native but  surrender  or  the  sudden  emptying  of  more  than 
half  the  saddles  of  the  command.  The  Zouaves  had  made 
the  first  personal  as  well  as  material  capture  of  the  war  ;  and 
every  heart  beat  so  high  with  exultation  that  weariness,  thirst 
and  danger  were  forgotten,  and  the  shouts  rising  to  their  lips 
could  scarcely  be  restrained.  Captain  Jack,  leaving  his  com- 
pany covering  every  man  as  before,  was  just  about  to  step 
forward  and  receive  the  formal  surrender,  when — God  of 
Heaven  ! — what  was  that  ? 

There  are  some  moments  in  life  full  of  such  unheard-of  and 
hopeless  agony  and  horror,  that  the  man  who  once  meets 
them  is  alike  incapable  of  forgetting,  and  of  ever  experienc- 
ing their  counterparts.  They  come  by  land  and  sea,  in  the 
daylight  and  in  the  dusk  night,  falling  usually  with  no  warn- 
ing and  apparently  with  no  end  to  subserve  except  the  test- 
ing of  that  metal  out  of  which  humanity  is  made.  The 
treacherous  sea  has  most  of  them  :  the  steady  land  presents 
them  sometimes  in  such  terrible  force  that  even  the  5 
robbed  of  its  supremacy.  They  seem  blows  from  the  v«jry 
clenched  fists  of  the  gods,  dashed  down  in  an  anger  that  has 
no  mercy.  They  stun — they  blind — they  choke — they  make 
or  unmake  us      Beneath  them  we  lose  the  noblest  parts  of 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  295 

our  natures,  or  put  on  semblances  almost  divine.     They  have 
their  purpose,  beyond  a  doubt,  that  humanity  will  never  be 
wise  enough  to  see  until  the   Great  Unveiling.      Sometimes 
they  come   at  the  very  moment  when  a  great  success  has 
made  them  less  easy  to  endure  :  sometimes  when  long  strug- 
gle against  other  and  minor  misfortunes  has  given  preparation 
for  the  worst  and  yet  unstrung  the  nerves  that  must  meet  it. 
Sometimes  they  merely  calm  and  ennoble,  as  when  Herndon, 
after  providing  for  the  welfare  of  every  woman  and  child  on 
the  Central  America,  and  when  human  energy  could  avail  no 
more  for  the  safety  of  his  own  life  or  any  of  the  others  com- 
mitted to  his  charge,  yielded  to  the  weariness  of  his  labor, 
lay  down  and  slept  the  peaceful  sleep   of  childhood,  within 
fifteen   minutes  of  the  awful  plunge  that  he  knew  to  be  in- 
evitable.     Sometimes   they   freeze    into    stolidity,    as   when 
Luce,  inert  in  action,  stood  calmly  on  the  deck  of  the  Arctic; 
and  went  down  with  her  as  if  he  had  been  merely  a  statue  of 
stone  placed  in  that  position.     Sometimes  they  provoke  to 
bravado,  sublime  and  yet  pitiful,  as  when  Follansbee,  know- 
ing that  the  last  moment  of  the  St.  Denis  had  come,  stood 
on  the  deck  as  the  last  boat  shoved  away  and  the  ship  be- 
neath  him   reeled   for  the   final   plunge,  winding  his  watch  ! 
Sometimes  they  come  when  a  man  all  health  and  hope  slips 
down  between  two  cars  of  a  railroad  train  and  the  wheel  is 
already  pressing  him  that  in  another  second  is  to  crush'  him 
into  a  mere   pulp  of  blood  and  bones  and  flesh  ;   sometimes 
when  the  accused,  standing  in  the  dock  and  confident  of  his 
acquittal,  hears  that  awful  word  "Guilty  I"  drop  from  the  set 
lips  of  the  juryman;   sometimes  when  the  physician   comes 
once  too  often  to  the  bedside  and  says :  "You  may  live  half 
an  hour."     Some  meet  them  at  the  very  moment  of  actual 
death,  and  so  with  reference  to  them  the  agonized  man   is 
dumb  forever;  others  when  the  apparent  doom  is  yet  escaped 
by  the  breadth  of  a  hair.     Driesbach  the  beast-tamer  meets 
one  when  the  attendant  has  locked  the  door  of  the  cage  and 
gone  away,  leaving  him  powerless  to  escape  from   the  fangs 
of  the   unbroken   lion  that  is  all  the  while  lashing  the   bars 
with  his  tail  and   crouching  for  a  spring  that  may  come  at 
any  moment — sees  it  for  thirty  long  minutes  of  fixed  eye 


296  THE      DAYS      OF      SHUDUY. 

and  baled  breath,  man  against  boast,  hope  against  despair, 
till  the  keeper  comes  at  last  and  the  peril  is  averted  ;  Van 
Amburgh,  his  rival  and  perhaps  his  master,  moots  one  when  the 
tigress  of  the  "  Tiger  King"  springs  upon  him  on  the  b 
buries  his  whole  shoulder  in  its  engulfing  mouth,  and  leaves 
him  with  no  hope  of  deliverance  except  the  sledge-hammer 
blow  of  that  iron  arm  and  hand,  crushing  brute  brow  and 
brain  like  the  fabled  stroke  of  "Front  de  Boeuf."  Eliot  War- 
burton  sees  one  of  them  as  he  stands  on  the  deck  of  the  burn- 
ing Amazon,  and  in  the  horror  of  that  moment  the  glory  of 
all  the  Orient  lands  is  forgotten  :  he  can  do  nothing  but  die, 
and  dies  as  becomes  a  man.  Oilman  Appleby  sees  another 
on  his  burning  Constitution  on  Lake  Erie,  and  again  when 
the  storm  is  dashing  her  on  the  rocks  that  in  another  mo- 
ment will  grind  her  to  powder;  but  his  wild,  reckless  will 
alike  defies  the  good  and  the  evil,  and  with  two  pistols  in  his 
belt,  literally  driving  his  frightened  passengers  to  safety,  or 
sitting  astride  of  his  overburthened  safety-valve,  with  hit 
glaring  fiendishly  down  on  the  frightened  engineer,  he  seems 
to  dash  the  very  thunderbolts  from  the  immortal  hands  and 
reverse  the  decrees  of  fate.  Xo  man  is  quite  the  same  after 
enduring  one  of  these  moments;  for  though  he  may  be  better 
and  wiser,  as  befits  one  who  has  stood  on  the  threshold  and 
seen  the  Mystery  face  to  face, — yet  he  may  lie  wilder  and  more 
reckless,  as  one  who  feels  that  there  is  no  terror  possible  to 
be  added  to  his  experience. 

All  which  may  or  may  not  have  a  legitimate  connection 
with  the  event  of  that  particular  moment  in  front  of  the  old 
Slave  Pen  at  Alexandria.  There  was  horror  enough,  cer- 
tainly, to  mark  the  culmination  of  any  man's  experience  of 
pain,  disappointment,  bitter  anger,  and  that  other  and  baser  pas- 
sion—fear.  For  at  the  very  instant  that  Captain  Jack  moved 
to  receive  the  sword  of  the  surrendering  cavalry-officer,  there 
was  a  sharp  rattle  and  clash  behind  him  and  his  company, 
the  tramp  of  hurried  feet  upon  the  pavement,  the  roll  of 
wheels,  and  almost  before  he  could  turn  his  head  a  battery  of 
four  United  States  pieces  dashed  up,  unlimbered,  trained  full 
upon  his  company  and  himself,  so  near  that  the  discharge  of 
grape  must  have  swept  the  street  clear  of  every  living  man, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  2'J7 

and   ho  hoard   the   quick  voice  of  Wilcox,  full  of  hurry  ard 
anxiety,  shout  to  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  guns  : — 

ll<;\v  many  in  the  company  saw  the  peril,  no  man  knows. 
Every  man  in  it,  questioned  afterwards,  would  have  said  he. 
saw  it,  for  no  man  likes  to  lose  the  credit  of  having  known, 
as  well  as  passed  through,  a  great  danger.  So  many  as  did 
forsake  their  aim  at  the  sound,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  what 
lay  behind,  undoubtedly  set  their  teeth  and  waited  their  fate 
in  dogged  despair.  Captain  Jack,  the  first  to  see  the  impend- 
ing catastrophe,  and  probably  the  only  one  who  understood 
it,  followed  Shakspeare,  ''swore  a  prayer,"  and  waited  for 
his  doom  with  an  impression  that  the  whole  thing  was  an 
outrage — to  blow  away  a  company  at  the  mouths  of  a  battery, 
just  when  they  were  about  making  a  neat  haul  of  prisoners. 

But  all  this  did  not  occupy  an  instant,  as  the  space  after 
an  officer  of  a  regular  battery  gives  the  command  to  fire  and 
before  the  command  is  executed,  is  singularly  short  to  those 
who  happen  to  stand  in  the  way.  But  what  did  the  hesita- 
tion mean  ?  Why  did  not  the  iron  come  tearing  through  their 
ranks  ?  Strange  !  Yes,  strange— one  of  those  hair-breadth 
chances  which  partake  a  little  of  the  character  of  the  miracle. 
Colonel  Wilcox  had  believed  his  regiment  the  only  Union  force 
in  the  town — seen  the  grey  uniform  of  the  Zouaves  as  he  came 
rapidly  up,  and  supposed  it  to  be  the  prevailing  rebel  color— 
and  the  danger  had  been  that  just  related.  By  the  merest 
accident  Lieut.  Ramsay,  of  the  regulars,  who  commanded  the 
battery  (and  who  afterwards  had  his  head  shot  off,  fighting 
bravely  at  Bull  Run)  had  chanced  to  see  a  Zouave  uniform  or 
two  as  the  battery  came  in  through  the  city ;  and  at  the  mo- 
ment when  the  fatal  command  was  given,  the  thought  had  darted 
suddenly  into  his  head  that  the  Zouaves  might  have  reached 
the  city  in  advance.  This  had  withheld  the  last  order  to  the 
cannoniers,  and  by  just  so  narrow  a  chance  had  the  taking  of 
Alexandria  been  saved  from  going  upon  record  as  even  a 
darker  and  sadder  tragedy  than  it  now  exhibits  in  the  early 
history  of  the  war.  Sorrow  for  the  cause  of  the  nation,  for 
the  lives  of  many  brave  men,  and  the  peace  of  many  hearts 
now  broken,— that  even  so  narrow  an  escape  as  this  from  the 


298  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

murder  of  friends  has  not  always  been  accorded  by  the  en- 
vious fates,  and  that  once  and  again,  from  Big  Bethel  to 
of  the  last  tights  of  the  summer  campaign  of  1863  in  Virginia, 
score  after  score  of  lives  has  been  lost,  and  regiment  alter 
regiment  disabled,  by  mistakes  in  uniform,  flag  <>r  position, 
quite  as  stupid  and  quite  as  sad  as  that  which  sacrificed  a 
great  battle  and  a  kingdom,  in  English  history,  through  the 
belief  that  foes  were  coming  into  the  fight,  carrying  the 
Rising  Sun  of  York,  instead  of  friends  bearing  the  Silver 
Star  of  Oxford. 

It  is  surprising  how  short  a  space  of  time  may  be  consumed 
in  occurrences  that  take  a  considerable  period  in  their  most 
concise  relation.  It  did  not  seem  more  than  a  moment  after 
the  unlimbering  of  those  guns,  when  Colonel  Wilcox  spurred 
his  horse  past  the  left  flank  of  the  Zouaves,  dashed  up  to  the 
Captain  and  drew  rein  in  front  of  him,  with  the  sharp,  angry, 
puzzled  inquiry  : 

"  Who  are  you  V 

"  Captain  ,  commanding   Company ,  of  the  First 

Fire  Zouaves,"  replied  the  Captain,  who  had  scarcely  yet  re- 
covered from  the  impression  that  he  should  by  that  time  have 
ceased  answering  questions  on  this  side  of  the  line  between 
life  and  death. 

''What!"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  who  had  before  enter- 
taiued  no  more  idea  that  the  Zouaves  could  be  in  that  posi- 
tion, than  that  they  were  quartered  in  South  Carolina.  "  And 
what  are  you  doing  here,  then  ?" 

"  Obeying  orders  !"  answered  Captain  Jack,  with  just  the 
least  dash  of  offended  dignity  in  his  tone.  He  knew  Wilcox, 
at  a  glance,  but  did  not  know  that  he  had  any  business,  after 
threatening  to  blow  his  company  out  of  existence,  to  follow  it 
up  by  bullying  him  in  the  execution  of  his  duty.  "  I  was 
sent  by  Colonel  Ellsworth,  who  holds  the  town,  to  tear  up 
the  track  of  the  railroad  yonder.  I  had  just  done  it.  and 
was  making  a  capture  of  that  body  of  rebel  cavalry,  when 
your  little  arrangement  for  blowing  us  away  with  that  bat- 
tery spoiled  the  fun,  and  about  half  of  them  have  taken  the 
chance  to  get  away." 

"Humph  I"  said  the  Colonel,  who  saw  that  the  last  allega- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  209 

tion  was  true,  at  least.     "  If  that  is  the  case,  look  to  your 
prisoners." 

"Th&nk  you  for  nothing  !"  muttered  Captain  Jack,  as  the 
Colonel  wheeled  his  horse  and  dashed  back  to  the  battery  and 
his  own  regiment  that  was  now  coming  up  and  filling  the 
whole  street  close  behind.  A  moment  more  sufficed  to  throw 
his  men  into  such  position  that  no  further  attempts  at  escape 
on  the  part  of  the  cavalry  were  possible,  and  the  rebel  Cap- 
tain Bull  stepped  forward  and  delivered  up  his  sword.  The 
whole  number  of  the  rebel  force  when  the  Zouaves  came  upon 
the  ground,  had  been  about  their  own  number,  eighty ;  but 
the  interruption  had  enabled  half  of  them  to  get  away,  and 
the  capture  actually  made  was  that  of  thirty-six  men  and  forty 
horses— unimportant  of  itself,  but  embodying  some  interest 
from  the  fact  that  it  was  the  first  capture  of  men  in  the  war, 
as  the  taking  of  Alexandria  was  the  first  re-possession  of  any 
town  that  had  fallen  into  rebel  hands,  by  the  Federals. 

The. rebel  cavalry  were  being  disarmed  and  placed  under 
guard,  while  details  of  the  Zouaves  and  the  First  Michigan 
had  commenced  exploring  the  Railroad  Depot  and  the  Slave 
Pen  for  traces  of  the  Virginia  troops  who  had  been  quartered 
there, — when  a  mounted  scout  rode  hastily  up  the  street 
from  the  direction  of  the  river  and  stooped  from  his  saddle  to 
speak  to  Col.  Wilcox,  who  had  dismounted.  He  spoke  in  a 
low  tone  and  the  conversation  was  carried  on  out  of  easv  ear- 
shot of  the  men,  but  some  of  the  command  saw  that  the 
Colonel's  face  grew  agitated  and  that  his  eyes  seemed  anxious 
and  troubled.  A  moment  more,  and  the  scout  rode  away 
again,  while  Colonel  Wilcox,  coming  up  in  front  of  the  spot 
where  the  body  of  the  Zouave  company  yet  stood  in  position, 
and  said,  so  loud  that  all  could  hear  him : 

"  Captain,  my  men  will  relieve  your  company  of  the  charge 
of  the  prisoners.  I  have  other  service  for  you.  There  is  a 
hill  about  two  miles  west-south-west,  between  the  Fairfax 
and  the  Leesburg  roads,  called  Shooter's  Hill.  It  has  a  com- 
manding position,  and  it  may  be  necessary  to  make  a  post 
t la-re  at  once.  You  will  go  forward  with  your  company  and 
take  possession  immediately.  Never  mind  being  a  little  tired, 
boys.     Away  with  you,  quick  !" 


300  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

What  is  the  magnetism  which  informs  us  when  wo  are  hear- 
ing a  positive  lie  or  only  being  entrusted  with  half  of  a  truth  F 
That  we  do  have  such  intuitions,  is  bcyon<J  question.  Captain 
Jack  knew,  just  as  well  as  he  could  have  done  had  the  fact 
sworn  to  him  by  most  competent  authority,  that  Shooter's 
Hill  was  not  a  matter  of  any  such  consequence  to  the  Colonel, 
just  then,  that  he  would  send  the  tired  Zouaves  out  to  take 
.  of  it.  Besides,  lie  had  no  superior  officer  in  the 
town,  from  whom  he  could  have  received  orders,  by  the  scout, 
to  make  any  such  movement.  Then,  he  was  in  too  much  of 
a  hurry  to  get  them  away,  as  a  few  minutes  could  not  possi- 
bly make  so  much  difference  in  the  occupation  of  a  mere  out- 
post. There  was  something  else,  and  that  something  had  a 
connection  with  the  hurried  riding  in  of  the  scout.  What  ? 
He  was  soon  to  be  answered. 

The  company  were  ready  in  file  for  marching,  when  the 
Colonel  drew  Captain  Jack  aside  for  a  moment,  and  said,  in 
a  low,  agitated  voice  : 

11  Get  your  fellows  away  as  quick  as  you  can,  Captain  ! 
Every  moment  is  an  hour !  The  next  scout  that  comes  in 
may  say  a  word  too  much  !" 

"  Iu  God's  name,  what  is  the  matter,  Colonel  ?"  asked 
Captain  Jack,  his  tone  as  low  and  anxious  as  that  of  the 
other.  "  I  saw  that  something  was  wrong,  but  could  not 
guess  what,     In  a  scrape  below  ?" 

"  I  meant  to  tell  you  before  you  went,'1  said  the  Colonel. 
"Worse  than  a  scrape.  Oh,  why  will  men  go  beyond  their 
orders  and  make  fools  of  themselves  !  Your  Colonel  has 
just  been  killed  at  the  Marshall  House,  by  the  landlord,  and 
God  knows  whether  Farnham  can  even  manage  the  rest  of 
the  regiment  and  keep  them  from  burning  down  the  town, 
even  if  we  can  keep  these  in  the  dark  a  few  hours. "' 

"  Colonel  Ellsworth  killed  !"  gasped  the  Captain,  who 
seemed  as  incapable  of  realizing  that  a  man  could  be  killed 
in  so  short  a  time,  as  the  man  who  backed  up  the  validity  of 
his  own  note  was  incredulous  of  the  possibility  of  a  man  dying 
"  within  ninety  da] 

"  Yes,  killed,  and  the  landlord  with  him,w  said  the  Colonel. 
"But  you  will  hear  all  about  it,  soon  enough.      Get  out  to 


T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  301 

Shooter's  ITill  as  fast  as  you  can,  and  not  a  word  to  the  boys 
about  it  until  the  day  is  over." 

"  The  landlord  killed,  too  !  Well,  that  is  some  comfort !" 
muttered  Captain  Jack,  as  he  went  back,  took  his  place  at 
the  head  of  his  company  and  marched  them  away  at  quick 
step  up  the  Fairfax  Road.  They  were  very  foot-sore  and 
weary,  and  fancied  that  one  place  was  enough  to  capture  in 
a  single  day ;  and  Burtnett  Haviland,  file-leader  of  the  first 
file,  caught  himself  thinking  that  if  the  bottoms  of  his  feet 
were  not  blistered  and  his  stomach  was  not  empty,  they 
probably  would  be  by  the  time  they  had  finished  their  march 
and  found  breakfast.  But  they  had  taken  a  town  and  cap- 
tured the  Fairfax  Cavalry,  the  boys  thought — that  was  some- 
thing ;  and  so  they  stepped  away  with  very  good  spirits 
towards  Shooter's  Hill,  which  was  to  form,  with  its  neigh- 
borhood, the  scene  of  almost  all  their  camp  experience  in 
Virginia. 

Ellsworth  dead  !  Yes,  that  was  the  story  told  by  the 
Colonel,  and  too  truly  he  indicated  the  misfortune.  The 
young  Colonel  had  already  reached  the  end  of  his  career — . 
the  close  of  all  his  brilliant  anticipations  of  the  life  of  a 
patriot  soldier.  He  had  seen  the  rebel  flag  flying  on  the  top 
of  the  Marshall  House,  a  dingy  old  brick  building  at  the 
corner  of  King  and  Pitt  Streets — had  had  too  much  headlong 
patriotism  to  despise  the  exhibition,  too  much  courage  to 
hesitate  at  any  peril,  and  too  little  prudent  forethought  to  be 
capable  of  taking  care  of  himself  or  others.  He  had  sprung 
into  the  house  on  the  mad  as  well  as  useless  errand  of  tear- 
ing down  that  flag,  been  shot  through  the  heart  by  Jackson, 
in  performing  it,  and  his  slayer  laid  dead  beside  him  by 
Brownell,  who  could  revenge  his  Colonel  but  could  not  re- 
member to  shoot  quickly  enough  to  save  him.  He  was  dead, 
and  his  plans  and  purposes  as  well  as  his  hopes  dead  with 
him  ;  while  his  regiment  had  its  own  welfare  to  look  after, 
under  officers  who  an  hour  before  had  no  dream  of  assuming 
such  a  responsibility. 

That  is  the  story  of  the  death  of  Ellsworth,  somewhat  more 
briefly  told  than  in  the  inflated  relations  and  atrociously  bad 
plays  with  which,  as  the  first  death  of  an  officer  in  the  War 


302  T  IT  E      DAYS      OF      S  H  O  D  I »  V . 

for  the  Union,  it  has  since  supplied  current  literature.  It  was 
a  mad,  reckless  waste  of  life  and  desertion  of  command — 
nothing  more  nor  less.  Washington  was  a  hero  at  Prince- 
ton, when  he  rode  between  the  cross-fires  of  the  two  forces, 
and  Xapoleon  at  Lodi  when  he  charged  over  that  deadly 
bridge, — because  all  was  lost  to  each  without  the  exertion, 
and  the  stake  was  worth  life.  But  the  one  would  have 
proved  himself  a  fool  by  exposing  himself  in  the  same  man- 
ner in  a  mere  skirmish,  and  the  other  by  leading  an  ordinary 
forlorn-hope  instead  of  directing  it.  Ellsworth  at  once  proved 
his  personal  bravery  and  his  unfitness  for  command,  when  he 
went  on  a  service  for  which  (if  it  was  to  be  done  at  all)"he 
should  have  sent  a  corporal's  guard,  and  lost  his  life  in  taking 
down  a  rebel  rag  of  very  doubtful  cleanliness,  from  the  roof 
of  a  second-rate  Virginia  tavern.  Two  of  his  own  Zouaves 
had  "  taken  down1'  its  predecessor  from  the  same  roof,  only 
a  few  days  before,  at  much  less  cost,  by  climbing  out  and 
stealing  it  after  dinner,  and  one  of  them  bringing  it  away 
wrapped  round  his  body  and  concealed  under  his  clothing  ! 
And  they  could  have  performed  the  same  task  again,  if 
necessary. 

Striking  the  balance  of  the  reckless  exposures  of  the  Union 
War  against  its  poltrooneries,  perhaps  there  might  be  less  to 
complain  of.  For  against  one  officer  throwing  away  his  life 
in  this  manner,  we  might  set  another  lying  at  ease  behind  a 
haystack  during  a  whole  battle  ;  and  against  a  second  dare- 
devil we  might  oppose  another  taking  a  sudden  fancy,  when 
under  fire,  for  whortleberries  growing  in  the  remotest  parts  of 
a  wood;*  but  unfortunately  one  fault  does  not  quite  do  away 
with  the  disadvantages  of  the  other,  and  the  middle  ground 
of  bravery  in  conflict  seems  about  as  indispensable  for  the 
success  of  our  armies,  as  the  middle  ground  of  conservative 
policy  for  the  furtherance  of  the  national  cause. 

*  Some  of  the  participants  in  the-  first  battle  of  Bull  Run,  belonging  to 
the  Xew  York  Militia  Regiments,  will  not  have  much  difficulty  in  reuictuber- 
injr  either  of  the  circumstances  here  alluded  to. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Charles  Holt  with  a  Call  Abroad — How  he  paid  a 
Farewell  Visit  to  Burtnett  Haviland's — Miss  Sarah 
Sanderson's  little  Amusement,  and  a  Compact  follow- 
ing— How  the  Merchant  made  a  Confidante  of  Mary 
h  avi  land,  and  bade  her  good-bye — flve  minutes  in 
the  Room  of  Olympia  Holt. 

Again  the  active  operations  of  war  must  drop  for  a  time 
into  the  back-ground  and  the  course  of  this  narration  return 
to  those  actors  in  the  drama  who  have  not  passed  into  the 
t  heal  re  of  actual  bloodshed.  Only  temporarily  ;  for  the  war- 
clouds  thicken,  and  one  of  those  fierce  struggles  of  one  rank 
of  the  descendants  of  Cain  with  another,  which  sometimes 
make  us  doubt  the  identity  of  human  origin,  is  in  the  near 
prospect. 

It  has  been  more  than  intimated,  before  this,  that  Mr. 
Charles  Holt,  merchant,  some  of  whose  "little  amusements" 
have  began  to  dawn  upon  the  mind  of  the  reader  as  at  least 
liable  to  moral  objection, — was  not  by  any  means  a  mere  man 
of*  pleasure,  or  even  of  fashionable  vice,  but  a  thorough,  in- 
carnate commercial  manager  as  well,  carrying  on  an  extensive 
business  with  signal  ability,  and  losing  no  opportunity,  proper 
or  improper,  to  add  to  a  fortune  already  believed  to  be  colos- 
sal. No  better  proof  of  this  need  be  adduced  than  the  man- 
ner in  which  he  had  seized  upon  the  needs  of  the  government, 
at  the  very  earliest  moment,  and  entered  into  those  cloth  spec- 
ulations paying  and  promising  so  finely.  To  this  fact  may  be 
added  another  apparently  very  different — that  if  "the  course 
of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth,"  that  of  false  and  dishon- 
orable love  is  at  least  liable  to  an  occasional  ripple  ;  and 
the  connection  between  the  two  facta  will  soon  be  made  ap- 
parent 

Coming  into  the  store  late  of  an  afternoon  not  far  from  the 

303 


;>,(  It  T  II  E      D  AYS      OF      S  II  0  I)  D  Y . 

if  May,  the  merchant  was  accosted  by  Mi.  Wales,  the 
gray-haired  book-keeper  ; 

"  Quite  a  number  of  letters  this  afternoon,  Mr.  Holt,  and 
one  that  is  privately  addressed.  It  bears  the  London  post- 
mark, and  you  will  find  it  lying  on  your  dest 

Charles  Holt  took  up  the  letter,  broke  the  seal  and  ran  his 
eye  hastily  over  it.  It  was  from  London,  by  the  steamer  that 
had  reached  Boston  only  the  day  before,  and  bore  the  signa- 
ture of  Mr.  Beverly  Andrews,  his  partner,  who  yet  remained 
abroad.     One  portion  of  it  ran  as  follows  : 

"All  your  advices  are  duly  noted:  and  so  far  a*  I  have  judged  it  prudent 
to  do,  I  have  acted  upon  them.  But  the  fact  is  that  for  the  first  time  in  my 
life,  in  a  plain  matter  of  business,  I  find  uiyseif  at  fault.  The  Sum:er  ailV.ir 
has  created  almost  as  much  excitement  here  as  it  undoubtedly  has  done  at 
home;  and  things  are  confused  terribly.  Exchanges  begin  to  run  against  US 
Eo  that  I  scarcely  know  what  to  buy  and  what  to  leave  untouched.  I  w<  uld 
give  almost  any  thing  to  have  your  older  and  (you  must  not  think  I  intend  to 
flatter)  clearer  head,  here,  even  for  consultation  an  hour  or  two.  I  suppose 
it  i*  too  much  to  ask,  but  could  you  not  manage  to  run  over,  even  if  you  went 
back  by  the  same  steamer?  I  cannot  possibly  leave  here,  in  the  present  pos- 
ture of  American  credit ;  and  yet  I  feel  that  some  large  operations  might  be 
performed  if  one  could  only  be  perfectly  sure  of  his  footing." 

For  five  minutes  the  merchant  leaned  on  the  desk,  holding 
the  letter  in  his  hand,  and  in  silence.  His  brow  was  bent,  as 
if  many  conflicting  thoughts  were  beating  beneath  it,  and 
then  the  cloud  cleared  away.     He  had  decided. 

"  Mr.  Wales,"  he  said,  "you  had  better  see  Mr.  Nellis  to- 
morrow morning  before  you  come  down-town,  and  tell  him 
that  he  must  give  up  his  arrangement  for  going  to  Chicago, 
until  a  month  or  two  later.  We  shall  need  all  our  force  at 
their  posts." 

"  I  will  attend  to  it,  sir,"  answered  Wales,  a  thorough  old 
martinet,  who  never  questioned  orders  but  obeyed  them. 

"  I  am  going  to  England  by  the  Cunarder  from  Jersey 
City  to-morrow,"  the  merchant  continued.  The  fact  was  till 
that  he  had  any  occasion  to  announce  :  the  why  was  his 
business  and  his  alone.  "  Some  of  those  Western  accounts 
must  be  sent  out  by  mail — have  them  attended  to  at  once. 
Send  to  the  office  and  have  me  a  forward  state-room  engaged, 
if  there  is  one  left.     If  I  can  see  Xellis  in  the  morning  before 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  305 

I  |eave,  all  well ;  if  not,  I  will  hand  you  a  letter  with  full 
instructions  for  him,  as  1  go  down.'1 

"Very  well,  sir,"  answered  the  book-keeper.  "Do  you 
have  any  idea  of  the  time  of  your  return?  As  I  suppose 
that  your  arrangement  is  somewhat  sudden,  we  may  have 
occasion  to  answer  the  question." 

"  I  may  return  by  the  same  steamer,"  said  the  merchant. 
"  If  not,  by  the  next ;  and  I  shall  not  be  absent  more  than 
thirty  to  fort}'  days,  at  the  longest.  You  understand  the 
arrangement,  I  suppose  ?" 

"Entirely,  I  believe," said  the  book-keeper,  and  the  merchant 
slipped  the  letter  into  his  side-pocket  and  left  the  store.  He 
stepped  out  to  Broadway,  then  down  to  the  front  of  the  Astor 
House  and  motioned  to  the  driver  of  one  of  the  carriages  in 
waiting  there.  A  few  words,  and  the  carriage  whirled  off  up 
Broadway,  with  its  occupant  lounging  on  the  back  scat,  but 
his  head  so  thrown  forward  that  the  chin  reposed  Upon  his 
breast,  and  the  brow  again  wrinkled  with  thoughts  that 
seemed  to  keep  his  brain  continually  busy. 

It  was  a  little  past  sunset  when  the  carriage,  having  pur- 
sued Third  Avenue  from  Astor  Place,  whirled  into  East 
Forty-eighth  Street  and  set  the  merchant  down  just  below 
the  corner,  driving  round  into  the  Avenue  afterwards  and 
awaiting  him.  For  reasons  of  his  own,  which  may  have 
been  delicate  unwillingness  to  be  seen  habitually  going  in  a 
carriage  to  a  house  the  occupants  of  which  so  seldom  used 
that  costly  mode  of  conveyance,  and  wrhich  may  have  had  the 
far  less  creditable  motive  of  not  wishing  to  be  observed  at 
all, — he  had  only  been  driven  to  the  house  once  or  twice,  in  a 
considerable  number  of  visits.  On  the  present  occasion  he 
walked  briskly  down  the  sidewalk  and  as  briskly  up  the 
sleps,  like  one  who  had  much  business  to  do  in  a  very  limited 
period.  The  May  evening  was  soft  and  pleasant,  and  many 
doors  along  the  street  had  been  left  standing  open — among 
Others,  that  of  the;  house  he  was  about  entering.  He  had,  or 
fancied  that  he  had,  now,  sufficiently  the  footing  of  an  intimate 
acquaintance,  to  pass  in,  under  those  circumstances,  without 
ringing,  and  merely  tap  at  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
11<j  followed  out  the  first  part  of  this  intention,  but  found  the 
19 


306       ,  THE      DAYS      OF      9  FT  0  0  D  V. 

remainder  impossible.  As  be  passed  the  dining-room  door 
at  the  head  of  the  stair,  be  BOW  that  it  was  open,  east  a 
glance  within  but  perceived  no  one.  Passing  to  the  other 
door,  he  found  that  also  open,  and  as  he  was  about  to  tap 
his  knuckles  upon  the  casing  as  a  summons,  saw  that  there 
appeared  to  be  only  one  person  in  the  room  and  that  person 
Sarah  Sanderson. 

The  eyes  of  the  merchant  had  the  habit  of  taking  in  all 
the  details  of  a  scene  at  a  single  glance,  as  well  as  embracing 
the  whole  contour.  They  exercised  that  power  in  the  pre- 
sent instance,  lie  saw  that  the  young  girl  was  alone  and 
that  she  had  not  heard  his  foot  on  the  stair  or  at  the  door. 
He  saw,  too,  that  #she  stood  with  her  face  turned  three- 
quarters  away  from  the  door,  that  she  held  a  letter  in  both 
hands  and  was  applying  it  to  her  lips.  Kissing  a  letter,  eh  ? 
■ — thought  the  merchant.  Xo  ! — every  thing  else  rather  than 
that.  She  was  licking  the  letter  instead  of  kissing  it — 
taking  the  innocent  liberty  of  coaxing  open  the  seal  by 
dampening  the  gum  of  the  envelope  with  her  lips  and 
tongue  !  Aha ! — and  the  merchant  read  the  story  at  once. 
She  was  tampering  with  correspondence  !  Perhaps  he  had 
seen  such  a  thing  done  before  :  at  all  events  he  did  not  utter 
any  audible  sound  of  surprise  or  indignation.  He  merely 
took  three  steps  to  the  spot  where  the  young  girl  was  stand- 
ing— steps  that  she  did  not  hear  any  more  than  those  which 
had  preceded  them, — reached  his  hand  partially  over  her 
shoulder  and  took  away  the  letter  with  a  quick  jerk. 

Sarah  Sanderson  half  screamed  with  the  surprise  and 
fright,  then  turned  and  recognized  the  merchant,  and  finished 
by  trembling  like  a  leaf  and  nearly  falling  upon  the  floor. 
Beyond  the  half-suppressed  scream  and  an  attempt  at  repeat- 
ing it,  not  a  word  could  she  utter. 

"  Stop  your  noise  and  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself!1'  said 
the  merchant,  with  the  calm  superiority  of  older  years  and 
better  practised  villainy,  and  at  the  same  time  catching  a 
glance  at  the  envelope  in  his  hand,  which  showed  that  it  bore 
the  Washington  post-mark  and  that  it  was  directed  to  Mrs. 
Mary  Haviland  in  the  well-known  writing  of  his  absent 
clerk.     "  Where  is  Mrs.  Haviland  ?" 


THE       1)  AYS      OF      SHOD  D  Y .  307 

?  She  hns — gone  out,"  stammered  the  culprit. 

"And  you  are  alone  in  the  boose  ?"  queried  the  immaculate 
judge. 

"  Yes,  sir.     Please ''and  here  the  small  hands  began 

to   clasp   themselves   and   the   merchant  became  aware  that 
pleading  was  about  to  commence. 

"  I  tell  you  again  to  stop  your  noise,  except  when  /speak 
to  you,"  said  the  man  of  experience,  whose  mind  had 
already  taken  in  and  revolved  the  thought  how  much  more 
completely  this  discovery  would  place  the  young  girl  in  his 
power.    "  Xow  then,  what  were  you  doing  with  this  letter  ?" 

"Please,  sir,  I  was  only  trying  to — to— to  fasten  it  up- 
on, don't  tell  of  me,  Mr.  Holt !  Please  don't  !"  and  the 
hands  went  together  again  and  more  pleading  was  likely  to 
begin,  though  there  was  no  flush  of  shame  on  the  cheek  and 
the  eyes  were  entirely  dry. 

7  I  will  tell  of  you,  and  have  a  policeman  here  in  five 
minutes,  if  you  do  not  do  precisely  as  I  bid  you  !"  said  Charles 
Holt,  determined  to  finish  the  fright  at  once  and  crush  out 
the  last  spark  of  hope  except  in  plain  truth  and  abject  obe- 
dience. "  Now  I  have  you  in  my  power,  Sarah,  and  can  ruin 
you  in  a  moment.  I  will  do  it  if  you  try  to  deceive  me  or 
disobey  me.  Tell  me  the  whole  truth,  and  you  will  be  in  no 
danger.     What  were  you  doing  with  that  letter  ?" 

"I  was  trying — to — to — " 

"Open  it,  by  dampening  the  gum?"  the  merchant  helped 
her  out. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  girl,  evidently  with  a  violent  effort, 

"Yes,  so  I  thought!"  said  the  merchant,  with  that  sneer 
in  his  tone  which  a  lawyer  uses  when  he  has  at  last  extorted 
the  injurious  admission  from  the  reluctant  witness.  "Xow, 
then,  one  thing  more,  and  you  had  better  answer  this  ques- 
tion quite  as  candidly — why  were  you  opening  this  letter?" 

It  has  before  been  remarked  that  there  was  no  flush  of  shame 
on  the  cheek  of  Sarah  Sanderson  at  her  detection.  Xow,  and 
at  this  question,  the  whole  cheek  became  one  intense  crim- 
son, until  it  seemed  that  more  blood  than  the  whole  body 
ought  to  have  contained,  was  concentrated  in  the  face.  The 
merchant  saw  it,  and  his  mental  comment  was  as  quick  as  the 


3<">3  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

flush.      She  attempted  to  answer,  mid  yet  she  could  not  an- 
swer the  truth. 

"  Beeause — beeause  I  wanted  to — to  hear  from  Mr.  ITavi- 
land— " 

"  Beeause  you  love  Mr.  Haviland  !"  and  these  words  were 
Bpoken  in  a  low,  concentrated  tone,  close  down  to  the  ear  of 
oung  girl.  She  started  away  from  him,  trembled  vet 
more  violently  than  before,  and  if  there  had  been  any  possi- 
bility of  the  amount  of  blood  in  the  face  being  added  to,  that 
addition  was  made  at  the  moment.  If  she  tried  to  speak,  the 
Wo*rds  stuck  in  her  throat,  for  she  uttered  no  sound  except 
what  might  have  been  the  gurgle  of  one  choking.  Her  eves 
tfere  bent  to  the  floor. 

"  Look  at  me,"  said  the  merchant.  As  if  compelled,  she 
obeyed,  and  met  eyes  that  had  power  but  little  pity  in  them. 
"  Now  answer  my  question,  without  any  further  delay,  or  you 
will  be  very  sorry  that  you  had  not  done  so." 

The  answer  came,  but  the  eyes  went  down  again  to  the 
floor  and  the  assent  was  given  in  three  or  four  nods  that  told 
more  than  words  could  have  spoken. 

''That  is  well,"  said  the  merchant.  "Now  one  thing 
more — you  hate  his  wife.     She  is  in  your  way." 

"  Oh,  heavens  !  what  are  you  saying  ?"  broke  out  the  young 
girl,  looking  apprehensively  towards  the  door.  "  Suppose 
she  should  hear  us  !"' 

"  Xo  fear  of  that  !"  answered  Charles  Holt.  "My  ears  tell 
me  when  any  one  is  approaching.     Answer  my  question." 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  finding  voice  this  time,  and  the  voice 
having  an  indescribable  sound  of  angry  dislike  that  might 
have  been  any  thing  but  reassuring  to  the  subject  of  the  reply. 

"  I  thought  so,  and  that  is  very  well  also,"  said  the 
tempter.  "Now,  Sarah,  we  shall  get  on  very  well  together, 
I  fancy." 

"And  you  will  not  tell  of  me,  Mr.  Holt  ?"  asked  the  girl, 
somewhat  reassured  by  the  less  threatening,  even  patronizing 
tone  in  which  the  last  words  had  been  uttered. 

"  Tell  of  you  ? — no,  not  if  you  obey  my  orders,"  answered 
the  merchant.  "  Tell  of  you  ? — no.  You  are  more  of  a 
woman  than  I  thought — have  loves  and  hates,  and  I  like  you 


THE      DAYS      OF      S  II  ODDT.  309 

the  better  for  them.  And  besides,  you  have  given  me  a  new 
idea,,  for  which  I  am  going  to  be  very  grateful  in  some  of 
those  nice  yellow  pieces  that  you  have  seen  before.  And  by 
the  way,  here  is  one  of  them." 

As  an  earnest  of  the  future  as  well  as  a  reminder  of  the 
past,  Charles  Holt's  hand  again  went  into  his  pocket  and 
^merged  with  a  gold  coin  within  the  fingers,  which  he  at  once 
transferred  to  the  palm  of  the  young  girl. 

"  Now  listen  to  me  for  one  moment,  and  see  that  you  pay 
attention  to  what  I  am  going  to  say,"  he  went  on.  "You 
h>ve  Fmrtnett  Haviland,  and  you  hate  his  wife  because  she  is 
in  your  way.  Obey  me,  and  she  may  get  out  of  the  way,  al- 
most before  you  know  it." 

"  Out  of  the  way  ! — She  ?"  queried  the  girl,  an  expression 
of  fierce  delight  passing  over  her  face,  but  still  blended  with 
something  of  uncertainty,  as  if  such  a  joy  must  be  impossible. 

"  I  said  so,"  answered  Charles  Holt,  "  and  what  I  say  I 
generally  have  the  power  of  proving.  Now  mind — by  your 
having  the  letter  in  your  hands,  before  it  came  to  Mrs.  Hav- 
iland, you  must  be  in  the  habit  of  taking  in  the  letters  your- 
self." 

"  Almost  always,"  answered  the  girl. 

"  Make  it  always,  then,"  directed  her  mentor.  "  Let  every 
one  of  the  letters  that  comes  to  the  house  pass  through  your 
hands.  Stop — what  is  the  name  of  the  post-man  who  serves 
on  this  route  ?  And  where  does  he  live  ?" 

"  His  name  is and  I  have  heard  that  he  lives  in  East 

Street,  not  far  from  the   Station,"  was  the  answer,  the 

young  girl's  eyes  somewhat  expressive  of  that  wonder  and 
alarm  which  come  of  getting  beyond  one's  depth. 

11  That  will  do,"  said  the  merchant,  "  I  will  see  him,  and 
any  letters  that  come  here  for  Mrs.  Haviland  will  be  given  to 
you,  and  if  she  happens  to  go  to  the  door,  there  will  be  none 
for  her — those,  I  mean,  that  are  in  her  husband's  hand-writing. 
See  to  it  that  she  does  not  have  one  more  letter  from  him,  un- 
til I  come  here  again.     Do  you  understand  me  ?" 

"  I  think  I  do  !"  said  the  neophyte. 

"  Something  more— you  take  the  letters  to  the  Station,  do 
you  not  ?" 


310  THE      I)  A  Y  S      OF      SHOD  I)  Y. 

"  Yes,  sir — or  hand  them  to  the  post-man." 

"  Well,  then,  stop  every  one  of  -Mrs.  Haviland's  letters  ad- 
dressed  to  her  husband.  If  one  of  them  goes,  all  the  rest  of 
the  labor  will  be  thrown  away.      Not  one — mind.'' 

11  Oh  sir — Mr.  Holt — what  are  you  going  to  do  !M  broke 
out  the  young  girl,  completely  otf  her  depth  in  villainy, 
shocked  and  stunned  by  the  idea  of  entirely  breaking  up  that 
correspondence  between  husband  and  wife  into  which  she  had 
only  intended  to  pry,  and  quite  as  much  frightened  at  the 
possible  result  as  she  had  been  at  the  prospect  of  discovery 
in  her  comparatively  trifling  crime. 

"  lly  own  business,  and  yours  !"  answered  the  merchant, 
severely,  to  her  frightened  inquiry.  "And  mind — you  have 
no  choice  in  the  matter  !  If  you  do  not  do  as  I  have  or- 
dered, and  do  it  effectually,  I  will  have  you  taken  up  for  break- 
ing open  letters,  and  sent  to  the  State  Prison  ;  if  you  do,  you 
may  some  day  find  that  the  man  you  love  is  your  own,  the 
woman  you  hate  out  of  your  way,  and  yourself  a  woman. 
Hush  ! — some  one  is  at  the  door  and  coming  up  the  stair. 
2s  ot  another  word — remember  !" 

The  last  word  was  spoken  threateningly,  though  very  low  ; 
and  the  lips  from  which  it  emanated  were  scowling.  One 
moment  after,  when  Mary  Ilaviland  entered  the  back  room 
with  little  Louise,  Sarah  Sanderson  was  making  a  clatter 
there,  as  if  she  had  been  steadily  at  work  for  an  hour,  and 
Charles  Holt  was  pacing  slowly  up  and  down  the  parlor,  hum- 
ming a  ballad  tune  in  a  low,  gruff  voice,  to  "  make  assurance 
double  sure"  and  supply  an  explanation  if  one  of  his  last 
words  should  have  happened  to  be  heard  by  the  returning 
wife.  The  young  girl,  as  she  busied  herself  about  the  supper 
arrangements,  may  have  been  frightened  and  flustered  at  the 
thought  of  the  situation  into  which  she  was  being  plunged 
deeper  and  deeper  by  her  own  fault  and  the  ascendancy  of 
that  strange  man  in  the  parlor  ;  but  she  had  no  more  inten- 
tion of  disobeying  him  than  she  could  have  had  of  sawing  off 
one  of  her  own  little  hands  with  the  dull  carving-knife  in  the 
box  on  the  dresser.  And  as  for  the  merchant  himself — he 
was  not  flustered  or  frightened  one  whit.  He  had  simply 
performed  another  "operation" — one  quite  in  his  line — if  not 


THE       DAYS      OF      S  II  O  D  ])Y.  oil 

in  cloths  and  eassimcres,  in  something  quite  as  saleab'e — hu. 
man  happiness  and  perhaps  human  Bouls. 

Mary  JIaviland  heard  the  step  and  the  voice  of  the  mer 
chant  in  the  parlor,  as  she  surmounted  the  stair,  and  she  went 
first  into  the  dining-room,  dropped  Fet  and  her  bonnet,  and 
came  into  the  parlor  through  the  passage,  How  very  hand- 
some she  looked — really,  as  well  as  to  the  eyes  of  the  scheming 
merchant  and  man  of  pleasure  !  Her  cheeks,  that  did  not 
redden  as  do  some  others,  to  the  extent  of  ungracefulness,  by 
walking,  were  yet  a  little  flushed  with  exercise,  and  her  dark 
dress  with  its  plain  little  white  collar  and  cuffs,  touched  her 
blonde  hair  with  something  almost  angelic.  Charles  Holt 
drd  not  see  the  "  angel"  quite  so  plainly  as  he  recognized  the 
woman  ;  but  he  was  touched,  nevertheless. 

So  far,  in  intercourse  that  had  now  lasted  for  nearly  a 
month,  never  for  one  moment  had  that  subtle  and  powerful 
voluptuary  forgotten  the  prudence  and  propriety  of  his  role. 
Not  one  word  had  yet  been  spoken  that  could  compromise 
his  position  with  the  wife,  simply  because  he  had  not  been 
certain  that  the  time  had  come.  He  preferred,  generally,  the 
McClellan  system  of  warfare,  that  is  twice  or  three  times  as 
long  as  it  should  be  at  building  a  bridge,  but  builds  it,  at 
last,  two  or  three  times  as  strong  as  is  necessary.  He  knew, 
intuitively,  that  too  soon  would  be  worse  than  too  late,  in 
that  quarter,  and  that  one  premature  fright  would  destroy 
future  chance  for  all  time.  He  had  seen,  all  the  while,  that, 
the  young  wife,  left  so  lonely  and  thrown  so  much  into  his 
society,  was  growing  more  and  more  pleased  with  his  visits 
and  reliant  upon  him.  That  was  something — it  was  even 
almost  enough,  in  his  mind  ;  for  no  matter  how  slight  may 
be  the  slope  of  the  inclined  plane,  give  it  length  enough  and 
it  will  comedown  to  the  lowest  level  desired.  'With  this  in 
view,  he  had  so  far  been  able  to  restrain  himself;  and  the 
nciirest  approach  to  familiarity  yet  attained  had  been  the 
holding  of  one  of  the  little  hands  something  too  long  for  strict 
propriety,  and  a  kiss  which  he  had  once  or  twice  impressed 
upon  that  innocent  member  with  apparent  courtly  dignity 
and  vet  with  lips  that  burned  more  than  the  young  wife 
knew.     So  far  the  restraint  had   labted  :  how  much  longer 


312  T  II  E      I)  A  V  3      0  F      8  110  I)  D  Y. 

was  it  to  hist  and  hnw  much  longer  could  it  last,  with 
such  visions  continually  beaming  before  him  ?  One  Btep  for- 
ward— one  step  if  no  more,  before  tbe  long  swell  of  the 
Atlantic  should  roll  between  them  on  the  evening  of  the 
morrow. 

Mary  Haviland  received  her  prnest  with  even  more  warmth 
than  had  been  her  wont.  When  he  held  out  both  hands  to 
her,  one  of  hers  fell  into  each,  and  she  allowed  him  to  retain 
them  long,  as  he  walked  beside  her  towards  the  front  window 
where  the  light  of  the  May  evening  was  fast  fading  away  into 
dusk.  It  was  time  for  lighting  the  little  chandelier,  and  yet 
not  only  he  but  she  felt  that  no  other  light  was  needed. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  dangerous.  Sunlight  may  be 
exhilarating  and  moonlight  may  be  entrancing,  but  neither 
can  for  one  moment  compare  with  the  soft  dusk  uncertainty 
of  twilight,  in  its  peril  to  two  who  love,  or  fancy  that  they 
love,  or  wish  to  fancy  that  they  love,  each  other. 

Then  followed  what  the  pen  of  the  narrator  has  no  fancy 
for  portraying,  and  yet  what  cannot  be  avoided — a  little  bit 
of  acting  on  the  one  side,  which  would  have  made  Xed  Booth 
or  Xed  Davenport  expire  with  envy, — and  a  corresponding 
bit  of  womanly  yielding,  not  to  say  culpable  weakness,  on  the 
other,  which  might  have  induced  Mary  Gannon  (queen  of  all 
the  juvenile  simplicities)  to  indulge  at  least  in  a  small  exhibi- 
tion of  feminine  spite. 

The  two  were  very  near  together  as  they  took  seats  near 
the  window — nearer  than  they  had  sat  On  any  previous  occa- 
sion. The  dark  may  have  been  the  reason  of  this  accident. 
A  few  commonplaces,  and  the  tone  of  the  merchant's  voice 
sunk  very  low,  at  the  same  time  that  his  hand,  which  had 
been  toying  with  the  tassel  of  the  tidy  on  Mary  Haviland's 
chair,  fell  over  on  her  lap  and  rested  there,  partially  upon 
one  of  her  own.  Then  it  crept  closer  to  the  companion 
member,  and  at  last  encompassed  it.  Neither  of  the  motions 
were  opposed  or  resisted  by  the  young  wife.  The  grasp  of 
the  merchant  closed  warm  around  the  little  hand  in  his  own, 
and  Mary  Haviland  heard  him  utter  a  deep,  low  sigh,  almost 
a  groan  in  its  intensity.  The  instant  after,  she  saw  him 
spring  to  his  feet  and  clasp  his  hand  to  his  brow,  as  if  some 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  313 

sudden  pain  had  struck  him  there  or  some  deadly  recollection 
Stung  him  like  an  asp.  It  was  the  most  natural  thing  in  the 
world  for  the  little  woman  to  spring  from  her  chair  and  grasp 
her  guest  l>y  the  arm,  in  real  anxiety. 

"  Yon  are  in  pain — sick?"  she  asked,  that  bewildering  touch 
still  upon  his  arm. 

"  No — yes,"  with  another  sigh,  half  a  tone  still  lower  than 
its  predecessor.     "  Do  not  mind  me,  I  beg  of  you." 

'■  ]>ut  I  must  mind  you  !"  said  the  wife.  "  I  cannot  see  you 
suffer  and  be  unmoved." 

"  Can  you  not  ?  Then  God  bless  your  kind,  good  heart !" 
said  the  consummate  actor,  sinking  back  again  into  his  chair 
and  allowing  the  little  hand  to  slide  down  his  arm  until  it  not 
only  touched  his  hand  but  actually  took  it  unbidden.  Then 
a  shudder  as  he  felt  the  touch,  and  then  he  continued:  "And 
yet  I  am  afraid,  Mrs.  Haviland — may  I  not  say  Mary  ? — that 
I  must  either  never  come  into  }rour  presence  again,  or  you 
may  be  doomed  to  see  much  more  of  such  suffering,  without 
any  power  in  the  world  to  relieve  it."  He  was  calmer  now 
(as  an  attendant  physician  might  have  said  after  the  paroxysm 
of  a  patient),  and  did  not  sigh  again  in  the  same  heart-rending 
manner. 

"What  can  you  mean?"  asked  the  young  wife,  her  hand 
still  retaining  his  in  her  grasp,  with  some  kind  of  idea  in  her 
heart  that  she  was  playing  ministering  angel.  So  she  was, 
but — bless  her  little  innocent  heart ! — to  a  very  different  sub- 
ject from  what  she  imagined. 

"  Oh,  I  am  a  fool,  if  not  a  villain  !"  said  the  merchant,  his 
whole  expression  one  of  dissatisfaction  and  anger  with  him- 
self for  this  betrayal.  "  What  right  have  I  to  cloud  your  life 
with  my  unhappiness,  with  my — " 

"  Unhappiness  I"  echoed  the  young  wife,  to  whom,  it  must 
be  confessed,  spite  of  the  content  of  her  state,  unlimited 
wealth  and  position  had  seemed  to  be  a  bar  against  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  a  thing  as  that  word  represented.  "Unhap- 
piness ?     You,  so  good  and  so  powerful,  unhappy?" 

"  I  could  bite  off  my  tongue  for  allowing  me  to  utter  that 
word,"  exclaimed  the  merchant.  "And  }Tet  it  is  out,  and  I 
cannot  recall  if.     Unhappiness  ?  yes  ! — of  course  you  could 


314  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

not  be  aware  of  the  fact,  but  I  have  no  home,  and  have  never 
had  one.  There  are  words  that  we  cannot  speak,  and  some 
that  we  must  not.  But  after  my  unguarded  speech,"  (oh, 
very  unguarded  !)  "  I  suppose  that  I  owe  you  the  justice  of 
explaining  that  my  home  is  a  hell,  and  that  my  marriage  has 
never  been  any  thing  more  than  a  mockery." 

Plow  sadly  he  seemed  to  be  in  earnest,  now! — and  how 
impossible  it  seemed  that  all  this  could  be  assumed  !  Alas  ! 
— in  this  one  passage  he  assumed  nothing,  as  the  reader  of 
tills  narration  is  partially  aware,  and  as  he  may  become  more 
fully  convinced  before  it  closes.  And  who  does  not  know 
how  much  more  terribly  real  the  tragedian  becomes,  though 
only  playing  his  part,  when  he  chances  upon  some  passage 
which  befits  his  own  real  life  ? 

"  My  dear,  good  friend  !  How  I  pity  you  !"  said  Mary 
Haviland,  his  hand  yet  in  hers  and  their  chairs  very  near. 

"  'Pity's  akin  to  love' — Shakspeare  !"  said  the  merchant  to 
himself.  "I  am  getting  on  famously."  But  his  lips  uttered 
something  very  different. 

"  Yes,  you  do  pity  me — I  believe  it,  I  know  it !"  he  said, 
his  hand  more  than  returning  the  kindly  pressure.  "And 
that — can  you  believe  it  ? — makes  me  more  wretched." 

"My  pity  make  you  wretched  !"  echoed  the  young  wife, 
not  fully  enough  versed  in  the  alchemy  of  human  thought  to 
understand  how  that  effect  could  be  produced. 

"  Yes,  wretched  beyond  thought  !"  said  the  merchant 
"Oh  Mrs.  Haviland — Mary— you  do  not  know  how  I  am 
torturing  myself  as  well  as  you,  and  yet  what  a  straw  I  am 
on  the  current  of  a  misery  I  cannot  resist.  I  came  to  bid  yof| 
good-bye,  and  I  meant  to  do  so,  calmly;  but  see  what  a  child 
I  have  been — what  a  child  I  am  !" 

"To  bid  me  good-bye?"  asked  the  wife.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"That  I  am  going  to  Europe  to-morrow,"  said  the  actor, 
"  and  that  I  could  not  go  without  seeing  you — you  and  your 
little  house  once  more." 

"  Going  to  Europe  !"  said  the  wife,  and  her  tone  and  man- 
ner were  so  sincere  that  the  close  observer  had  no  difficulty 
in  discerning  how  she  felt  the  coming  loneliness. 


THE      D  AYS      OF      SHODDY.  315 

''Yes,"  answered  the  merchant,  "I  am  suddenly  called 
there,  and  I  must  be  absent  for  weeks,  at  least.  I  can.  bid 
good-bye  to  my  own  lonely  home  without  one  pang;  but  if 
you  only  knew,  Mary — there,  you  see  I  have  called  you  by 
that  sweet  name  again,  and  you  have  not  scolded  me  ! — if 
you  only  knew  how  much  of  my  enjoyment — of  my  happi- 
ness— has  lain  for  weeks  past  in  the  visits  I  have  paid  to 
this  little  house — how  much  nearer,  even  for  a  few  brief 
hours,  it  has  been  to  supplying  me  a  home  than  any  other 
spot  in  the  world, — you  would  know  what  has  so  unmanned 
me  and  made  me  a  child  when  I  came  for  a  moment  again 
into  a  heaven  of  goodness,  to  go  out  of  it  for  so  long  !" 

He  had  risen  as  he  spoke  the  last  words,  and  reached  over 
to  the  little  table  on  which  it  had  been  set,  for  his  hat.  He 
was  going,  and  going  for  so  long.  How  kind  and  good  and 
nattering  he  had  been,  to  be  happy  in  her  humble  dwelling 
when  he  could  not  be  in  his  own  luxurious  home  !  What  a 
good,  honest,  impulsive  man  he  was,  and  how  little  the  world 
could  be  likely  to  understand  him  !  How  much  of  her  life 
he  had  lately  made,  and  how  lonely  she  should  be  during 
his  absence  !  Such  were  the  thoughts  of  Mary  Haviland — 
just  those  thoughts,  nothing  less  or  more.  And  when 
Charles  Holt  moved  towards  the  door  of  the  little  room  and 
she  said :  "  I  am  really  so  sorry  you  are  going  !"  her  soul 
was  in  her  words  as  well  as  in  her  face.  And  when  Charles 
Holt,  as  if  moved  by  an  irresistible  impulse  for  which  he 
could  not  be  more  accountable  than  the  madman  for  his  ac- 
tion or  the  man  under  the  influence  of  the  exhilerating  gas 
for  his  antic, — when  Charles  Holt  sprang  forward,  said  : 
"Mary — dear  Mary!  good-bye  and  God  bless  you!"  caught 
his  arm  with  convulsive  suddenness  around  her  and  pressed 
his  burning  lips  to  hers, — she  did  not  repulse  him  or  even 
start  back ;  nay  more,  it  is  to  be  believed  that  beneath  the 
hot  pressure  of  his  lips  there  was  for  one  instant  the  throb 
of  a  sensation  through  the  rose-leaves  under  which  the  sweet 
blood  coursed  ! — that  she  actually  returned  his  kiss  ! 

Close  your  spiritual  eyes  as  well  as  your  physical  ones,  oh 
Birtnett  Haviland,  soldier  in  the  Army  of  the  Union,  as  you 
stand  on  guard  on  one  of  the  wharves  at  Alexandria  and  hear 


316  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

the  Potomac  rippling  by  in  the  twilight  !  Close  them,  ho 
that  by  no  chance  you  can  peer  through  the  many  miles  of 
dusky  air  lying  between  the  Virginian  city  and  your  wedded 
home,  and  see  how  foul  a  serpent  is  creeping  into  the  para- 
dise of  your  love,  and  how  the  flowers  do  not  even  shrink 
away  and  fold  themselves  at  the  approach  of  his  poison! 

And  you,  ye  overwatching  intelligences  who  make  record 
of  every  minute  as  well  as  every  day  of  our  mortal  lives  !— 
be  careful  how  you  do  your  duty  at  this  moment  !  Analyze 
well  that  subtle  substance  called  the  heart  of  woman,  before 
you  set  down  the  record  that  can  never  be  blotted  away  ! 
There  are  very  sad  shames  and  wrongs  in  the  world,  but 
there  are  benevolences.  Woman's  life  is  one  long  martyr- 
dom to  the  drain  made  upon  her  heart,  even  as  man's  be- 
comes a  torture  and  a  suicide  under  the  demands  made  upon 
his  brain.  If  there  is  shame  and  wrong,  let  it  be  so  recorded  ; 
but  if  a  holier  feeling  moves  and  the  heart  is  blind  instead 
of  erring,  let  the  record  bear  no  more.  For  the  same  Divine 
Lips  that  added  to  the  merciful  dismissal  of  the  woman  taken 
in  adultery  :  "  Sin  no  more  !" — promised  eternal  blessings  to 
the  giver  of  even  a  cup  of  cold  water  in  the  name  of  Faith 
and  Goodness  ;  and  there  may  be  those  who  bear  the  benevo- 
lence even  upon  their  lips,  that  they  believe  shall  save  from 
wretchedness  and  despair,  and  who  therein  sin  not  but  blindly 
and  erringly  tread  a  path  whose  last  footstep  will  yet  be 
within  the  courts  of  Heaven  ! 

"  Without  any  exception  the  most  successful  little  opera- 
tion I  have  managed  in  a  long  while,"  said  Charles  Holt  to 
himself,  as  while  Mary  Haviland,  her  head  all  a  strange  whirl 
which  she  by  no  means  understood,  was  preparing  sleepy 
little  Pet  for  her  crib,  he  stepped  again  into  the  long-delayed 
carriage  and  was  whirled  down  the  Avenue.  "  If  she  ever 
forgets  that  kiss,  or  ever  again  closes  the  door  that  I  have  so 
snugly  opened,  until  I  am  quite  as  willing  to  do  it  as  herself 
— then  my  name  is  not  Charles  Holt,  or  I  am  a  milksop. 
Now  I  can  afford  to  go  to  Europe,  and  who  knows  how  ripe 
some  of  the  fruit  may  be  against  I  return  !" 

Probably  some  of  the  billiard  players  who  were  knock- 
in"-  away  at  the  balls  in  the  back  room  of  a  saloon  on  the 


THE      DAYS      OF      snODDY.  317 

Third  Avenue  just  above  Thirty-fifth  Street,  and  who  certainly 
could  not  be  accused  ofoeing  over-censorious  in  their  morals 
— seeing  that  Sunday  was  their  grand  gala  day  there, — would 
have  shuddered  a  little  and  missed  some  very  easy  caroms, 
had  they  known  what  was  the  real  errand  of  the  well-dressed 
and  eminently-respectable-looking  man  who  a  few  minutes 
afterwards  stepped  into  the  bar  of  that  establishment,  asked 
to  look  at  the  Directory,  and  came  back  to  the  billiard-room 
to  (ind  it.  Quite  as  probably  the  post-man  whose  full  name 
and  direction  were  just  then  so  diligently  sought  after,  might 
have  indulged  in  a  corresponding  shudder,  had  he  been  aware 
of  the  temptation  which  was  a  few  minutes  later  to  be  offered 
him.  But  the  billiard-players  were  ignorant,  and  if  the 
post-man  had  any  scruples  it  is  to  be  believed  that  he  parted 
with  them  at  a  stated  price,  as  men  have  habitually  done 
from  the  days  of  Judas  downward.  Certain  it  is  that  Charles 
Holt  succeeded  in  transacting  his  business  to  his  eminent 
satisfaction,  though  his  purse  became  somewhat  lightened 
thereby  ;  and  that  within  a  very  short  space  of  time  there- 
after he  was  set  down  by  the  carriage  and  dismissed  it  (after 
paying  nearly  all  the  vehicle  wTas  worth)  at  the  door  of  his 
own  house  on  Fifth  Avenue. 

He  passed  into  the  house,  as  we  have  seen  him  do  on  a 
former  occasion,  with  his  pass-key  and  without  summoning  a 
servant.  His  splendid  drawing-rooms  lay  in  the  same  cold 
and  empty  magnificence  that  has  before  been  indicated.  A 
servant,  hearing  his  step  in  the  hall,  came  up  from  the 
"lower  regions,"  saw  that  it  was  "the  master,"  and  dodged 
down  again.  He  entered  his  own  room,  found  the  light  burn- 
ing low,  turned  it  up,  lit  a  cigar,  threw  himself  into  the  easy 
chair  and  smoked  a  few  minutes  with  his  eyes  closed.  Then 
he  threw  away  the  half-smoked  cigar,  turned  his  face  to  the 
ceiling  as  if  listening,  remained  perfectly  silent  for  a  moment, 
with  a  "Humph  !"  passed  out  again  into  the  lighted  hall,  and 
ascended  the  broad  stairway.  His  tread  was  slow  and  loiter- 
ing— the  exact  opposite  of  what  it  had  been  when  running 
up  the  steps  of  the  house  on  East  Forty-eighth  Street — the 
precise  antipodes  of  the  step  of  a  lover  hurrying  to  meet  the 
dearest  object  in  the  world.     He  trod  slowly:  had  he  known 


318  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

the  future,  he  certainly  would  have  trodden  yet  slower  or  he 
would  never  have  ascended  that  stair  at  all ;   for  then-  was  a 

drop  of  life-blood  (whose — no  matter)  oozing  away  at  every 
step  ! 

At  the  head  of  the  stair  he  turned  to  the  left  and  followed 
the  upper  hall  so  many  feet  as  brought  him  to  a  door  imme- 
diately over  his  own.  It  was  closed,  and  he  tapped  lightly 
upon  it  with  his  hand.  No  answer  from  within.  Then  he 
tapped  louder,  aud  waited  an  instant.      Still  no  answer 

"  Humph  !     I  wonder  if  she  can  be  out  at  this  time  in  the 

evening,  or  only "  he   did   not  close  the  sentence,  but 

opened  the  door  and  entered.  What  he  saw  when  within, 
must  be  set  down  at  a  little  more  length  than  the  extent  of 
his  observation  at  that  moment 

The  room,  immediately  over  his  own,  was  of  the  same  size, 
and  fitted  up  with  the  same  luxury  for  female  purposes  that 
his  showed  for  the  uses  of  manhood.  The  curtains  were  of 
heavy  dark  blue  silken  damask,  and  the  walls  of  blue  several 
shades  lighter:  the  two  sofas  and  the  chairs  were  of  rose- 
wood, covered  with  some  very  rich  dark  blue  worsted  stuff 
with  silken  raised  figures  ;  the  carpet  was  Venetian,  of  a  rich 
small  pattern  and  warm  colors  ;  a  massive  pier-glass  filled 
the  space  between  the  windows,  from  floor  to  ceiling  ;  a  piano 
with  legs  of  carved  rosewood  showing  beneath  the  heavy 
dark  cloth,  stood  on  one  side  of  the  room  ;  two  or  three  feet 
from  the  pier-glass  stood  a  table,  the  legs  also  of  carved  rose- 
wood, covered  with  a  damask  cloth,  and  on  it  a  liqueur-case, 
with  glasses,  a  basket  with  cake  and  a  salver  half  filled  with 
hot-house  grapes  ;  near  it  stood  a  small  table  with  chess-men 
and  a  pack  of  cards  in  a  counter  case ;  and  beyond  it  still 
another,  of  larger  size,  had  several  costly  articles  of  vertu 
scattered  over  it.  A  splendidly  appointed  room,  and  yet  a 
most  painful  one  to  look  in  upon.  For  the  carpet  was 
stained  and  littered  ;  the  cover  on  the  piano  was  awry  ;  one 
of  the  sofas  was  slewed  out  of  its  place  and  the  tables  ar- 
ranged without  any  regard  to  propriety ;  one  of  the  glasses 
on  the  large  table  was  tumbled  over,  a  bottle  out  of  the 
liqueur-case,  and  a  piece  of  cake  lying  over  the  side  of  the 
basket;  and  looking  through  a  door  leading  out  of  the  apart- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  819 

meni  into  a  smaller  one  adjoining  it,  a  tumbled  bed  could  be 
Been,  evidently  lounged  upon  and  then  remaining  unmade. 
Splendor  in  neglect  and  ruin — bo  unlike  what  could  be  seen 
in  anv  other  portion  of  the  house  that  it  has  been  our  duty 
to  traverse. 

And  yet  this  was  not  all — no,  nor  the  one-millionth  detail 
of  the  painful  sight  which  revealed  itself  under  the  lighted 
chandelier  to  the  eye  of  the  merchant,  and  which  niust  have 
tilled  any  other  observer  with  disgust  and  horror.  For  at  the 
foot  of  the  sofa  standing  opposite  the  door,  as  if  she  had 
tumbled  from  it  in  restless  sleep,  lay  Olympia  Holt — her  un- 
bound hair  streaming  backwards  on  the  floor;  her  dress 
wofully  disarranged,  so  that  the  contour  of  the  splendidly 
rounded  limb  was  too  plainly  revealed  ;  her  dress  of  rich  dark 
silk  unloosed  at  the  throat  and  bust;  and  her  breathing  that 
short  stertorous  snort  which  tells  the  condition  of  a  sleeper 
better  than  almost  any  other  test  that  can  be  applied.  A 
most  painful — a  most  disgusting  sight !  If  the  room  showed 
splendor  neglected  and  in  ruins,  what  was  this  ? — a  beautiful 
woman  prone  and  insensible  on  the  floor — humanity  also  in 
ruins,  and  that  humanity  of  the  same  sex  which  supplied  our 
mothers,  our  sisters,  our  wives  and  sweet-hearts  ! 

''Drunk  and  insensible  on  the  floor,  by  all  that  is  unen- 
durable !"  was  the  exclamation  of  the  spectator.  "What 
is  the  next  degradation  ?  That  was  the  reason  every 
thing  was  so  still.  Here  !  hallo  !  wake  up  !"  and  he  ad- 
vanced across  the  room,  stooped  down  and  shook  the  sleep- 
ing woman.  Apparently  he  might  as  well  have  attempted 
to  wake  one  of  the  mummied  Ptolemies  whom  the  antiqua- 
rians will  not  leave  alone  in  their  crypts.  A  second  shake, 
and  he  desisted  from  the  attempt.  As  he  ceased,  the  eves 
of  the  sleeping  woman  opened,  though  how  much  they  saw 
was  doubtful.  The  disgusted  husband  did  not  see  that  they 
opened  at  all,  for  when  he  looked  down  they  were  apparently 
close  shut,  and  there  certainly  had  been  no  change  in  the 
breathing.  Disgusted— did  we  say  ?— that  word  faintly  ex- 
a  the  sensations  of  the  husband,  fresh  (however  un- 
holily)  from  the  presence  of  beauty  and  purity,  and  outraged 


820  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

by  this  spectacle  of  degradation  to  a  degree  beyond  words 
and  almost  beyond  thought.  How  much  of  this  had  be 
be/ore  endured,  whether  the  fault  which  originated  it  was 
his  own  or  that  of  some  other?  What  writhings  might  the 
proud  man,  splendid  even  in  his  vices,  have  suffered  during 
long  years  of  this  debasement  ?  It  seemed  as  if  he  must  have 
endured  much,  for  his  lip  set  heavily  and  his  brow  lowered 
threateningly.  "  Sot !  disgrace  !"  at  length  broke  from  lips 
that  seemed  to  speak  without  opening  ;  and  at  the  same  mo- 
ment, moved  by  an  impulse  for  which  he  could  not  probably 
himself  have  accounted,  and  under  the  culmination  of  a 
feeling  of  shame  and  anger  which  had  been  accumulating 
for  years,  with  whatever  of  justice  or  injustice, — this  man, 
who  had  never  before  in  all  his  life  broken  "the  great  first  law 
of  chivalry  by  laying  violent  hand  upon  a  woman,  with  a 
muttered  curse  drew  back  his  booted  foot  and  twice  so  vio- 
lently kicked  the  sleeper  that  he  even  moved  the  body  upon 
the  floor  !  There  was  no  sign  of  sensibility,  that  he  saw, 
though  the  eyes  opened  again  as  he  turned  away,  then  closed 
again  as  suddenly. 

The  merchant  stepped  to  the  bell,  rang  it  violently  and 
waited  a  moment.  A  female  servant  came  rapidly  up  the 
stairs,  tapped,  stepped  within  the  room,  and  waited  for  his 
orders. 

"  Get  one  of  the  other  girls,  undress  that  woman  and  put 
her  to  bed,"  he  ordered.  "  When  she  gets  so  that  she  can 
understand  you,  if  she  ever  does,  tell  her  that  I  am  going  to 
England  to-morrow,  and  that  I  stepped  to  her  room  to  tell 
her  as  much,  but  found  her  so  sick  that  she  could  not  listen 
to  me.     That  is  all — go  (" 

The  servant  disappeared  down  the  stairs  in  search  of  the 
required  assistance.  The  merchant,  with  one  look  at  the  mass 
of  lost  womanhood  on  the  floor,  went  out.  closed  the  door 
and  descended  to  his  own  room,  which  he  did  not  afterwards 
leave  until  his  carriage  was  called  at  nearly  eleven.  But  the 
door  of  Olympia  Holt's  room  had  only  closed  behind  him. 
when  the  degraded  woman  opened  her  eyes  once  more, 
struggled  to  a  sitting  position,  shook  her  trembling  fist  after 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  321 

him  with  an  expression  on  the  face  that  if  drunken  was  yet 
demoniac,  and  muttered  thickly  through  her  clenched  teeth  : 
'•  Wretch  !  devil  !     It  has  come  at  last !     Be  careful,  noiv, 
if  I  ever  get  a  chance  at  you  !" 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Kate  Hayiland's  next  and  last  visit  to  Mary — City 
and  Country  Morals  and  the  General  Appreciation 
Thereof — A  Woman  who  had  been  crying,  and  who 

GLANCED    TOO    MUCH    OUT    OF    THE    WINDOW — HOW  THE    TWO 

"  Agreed  to  disagree" — No  Letters,  and  the  Story  of 
the  Guard-house — Miss  Sarah  Sanderson's  supplemen- 
tary information. 

The  peculiar  feeling  which  oppressd  Kate  ITaviland,  with 
reference  to  the  wife  of  her  cousin,  after  the  episode  of  the 
ambrotype,  and  after  that  visit  to  Forty-eighth  Street  which 
revealed  to  her  the  (supposed)  fact  that  her  cousin-by-mar- 
riage was  in  the  habit  of  going  to  theatres  with  a  comparative 
stranger  during  the  absence  of  her  husband, — cannot  very 
well  be  described  and  could  not  easily  be  analyzed  even  by 
the  young  girl  herself.  Herself  pure  as  the  modest  little  vio- 
let that  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  plucking  under  th«  hedges 
and  by  the  borders  of  the  woods  in  the  early  spring-time — 
she  knew  and  thought  of  vice  only  as  a  name  ;  but  she  had 
caught  the  name  and  heard  of  the  reality,  nevertheless.  She 
had  heard  in  her  quiet  country  home,  that  the  great  city  was 
one  correspondingly  great  haunt  of  vice  and  crime,  where  sin 
was  the  rule  and  virtue  the  exception  ;  and  she  had  necessa- 
rily contracted  something  of  that  indefinable  horror  which 
many  of  the  good  people  of  the  country  indulge  towards  the 
city,  who  believe  in  the  exploded  nonsense  about  green  fields 
making  mankind  more  honest  and  upright  than  stone  pave- 
ments,— and  who  do  not  know  that  the  country  "party,"  its 
20 


822  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

'* night-meetings''  and  its  long  and  lonely  walk?  in  a  wooded 
solitude  unattainable  within  the  "fire  limits,"  exert  the  same 
doubtful  influence?  that  are  brought  into  play  and  allowed 
by  the  ball,  the  theatre,   and  places  more   openly  dedicated 
to  the  service  of  vice,  in  the  city  so  set  under  ban.     Those 
good  people  who  cannot  be  brought  to  believe  that  tempta- 
tion can  assume  the  same  dangerous  and  insidious  forms,  un- 
der the  green  trees  and  in  the  rustic  paradises  of  the  country, 
and  do  the  same  effectual  work  of  desolating  the  heart  and 
the  life,  as  on  pavements  and  under  tiled   roofs  that   cover 
three    or   four  stories; — who  do  not  suspect  that  the  same 
moral  ruin  can  be  wrought  among  budding  boys  and  incipient 
young  men,  playing  division-loo  or  draw-poker  all  the  Sunday 
long  in  the  upper  story  of  the  country  wheel-wright  shop  or  the 
hay-mow  of  the  farmer,  that  could  be  entailed  upon  them  by 
the  plate-glassed  and  gilded  gambling-halls  of  the  metropolis; 
— who  do  not  know  that  Old  Bill,  buying  his  bad  liquor  by 
the   keg,   and    keeping    himself  in  a  continual  muddle  with 
potations  of  it   as  he  sits  at  borne — or  Young  Bill,  dashing 
about  with  his  fast  team   and   stopping  to  drink  half  a  dozen 
times  at  each  of  the  country  taverns  he    passes, — is   going 
quite  as  prosperously  down  the  road  of  drunkenness  a-  any 
old  man  or  young  man  of  the  city,  who  procures  his  means 
of  intoxication   at  the  most  splendid  or  the  most   degraded 
of  the  places  of  universal  supply;   who  do  not  realize  that 
frivolitv  goes  to  church  under  the  little  white  spire  in  the  vil- 
lage, just  as  frivolity  displays  itself  in  the  pews  of  Brown- 
that  misers  crawl  and  schemers  plot,  universally — that  the 
good  and  the  evil  exist  everywhere,  so  mixed  and  blended 
that  no  mortal  eye  can  discern  their  boundaries — that  thefts, 
slanders,  marital  falsehoods,  debaucheries,  unhappy  and  crimi- 
nal marriages,   murders,   and  all   the  long  array   of  crimes, 
spring  up  on  every  square  rood  of  God's  footstool,  as  rank 
fungi  in  dank  and  rotting  swamps, — and  that  there  is  no  ex- 
clusive patent  for  goodness  or  even  for  wickedness,  existing 
in   any  particular  spot  of  the  earth's  surface  because  it  hap- 
pens to  be  capped  with  a  flag-stone  or  tufted  with  a  few  blades 
of  grass. 

Sharp,    bright,    intelligent     Kate    Haviland    had    imbibed 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  323 

something  of  this  prejudice  of  the  country  against  the  city, 
long  before,  and  only  living  in  it  for  a  few  weeks  had  not  yet 
been  able  to  make  the  proper  mental  equation.  She  had  but 
two  points  of  view  of  society  in  the  city — the  Fnllerton 
no  use,  and  that  of  her  cousin.  The  first  was  not  by  any 
means  such  a  place  as  would  be  likely  to  disabuse  a  young 
mind  of  unfavorable  impressions  ;  and  what  had  she  seen  of 
the  state  of  affairs  at  the  second  ?  Much  as  she  had  loved 
and  respected  Mary,  and  much  as  she  was  disposed  yet  to 
love  and  respect  her,  the  omens  might  have  been  puzzling 
if  not  unfavorable,  to  more  hackneyed  minds  than  that  of  the 
teacher;  it  seemed  to  her  that  any  thing  and  anybody,  however 
pure,  might  be  corrupted  in  such  a  Babel ;  and  the  fact  is  that 
she  quitted  Forty-eighth  Street,  on  the  day  of  the  visit  there 
before  recorded,  with  her  head  in  a  whirl,  her  heart  ill  at  ease, 
and  a  sort  of  dim  and  indefinite  impression  creeping  over  her 
that  all  her  country  education  had  been  only  a  tithe  of  the 
truth,  and  that  New  York  must  be  a  second  Sodom,  worse 
than  the  original  and  somehow  forgotten  in  the  punitory 
distributions  of  aerial  brimstone  in  a  state  of  combustion. 

As  a  result  of  these  things,  the  foot  of  the  young  girl  did  not 
cros-  the  threshold  of  her  cousin's  house  for  weeks,  confident 
as  she  would  have  been,  under  other  circumstances,  of 'Mary's 
loneliness,  and  much  as  she  might  have  been  anxious,  under 
those  circumstances,  to  relieve  that  loneliness  and  comfort 
her  in  her  husband's  absence.  She  believed  that  Mary  Havi- 
land,  without  guilt  but  in  great  weakness,  was  "consoling" 
herself;  and  that  belief  at  once  removed  the  wish  and  the 
duty.  Then  the  young  girl  had  really  plenty  to  do  in  the 
Fnllerton  residence,  what  with  the  arrogances  of  Mrs.  Fnl- 
lerton (never  quite  so  decided,  however,  since  her  signal 
discomfiture  in  the  great  "overhauling");  the  impertinences 
of  Miss  Dora;  the  difficulty  of  keeping  Myra  and  Mildred 
from  the  most  serious  infractions  of  all  those  rules  supposed 
to  be  set  down  for  the  government  of  children  not  intended 
for  subsequent  savage  life  ;  and  another  little  occupation,  in 
the  frequent  presence  of  Mr.  Ned  Minthorne  in  the  school- 
room, of  which  something  more  will  be  seen  at  a  very  early 
period.     All  these  causes,   combined,  kept  her  absent  from 


324  THE      DATS      OF      SHODDY. 

the  house  until  the  beginning  of  June,  and  consequently 
ignorant  of  any  thing  that  bad  occurred  there  since  her 
previous  visit 

But  one  pleasant  June  morning,  past  the  middle  of  that 
month,  when  Mrs.  Fullerton  had  declared  her  intention  of 
taking  both  Myra  and  Mildred  down-town  and  having  one 
more  portrait  taken  of  each  of  the  dear  children — so  that 
they  would  have  no  studies  demanding  her  attention  until  the 
afternoon, — bonny  Kate  felt  all  her  good-nature  predominant 
and  her  desire  to  see  how  Mary  was  "getting  along"  alto- 
gether too  strong  to  be  resisted.  She  smoothed  down  her 
chestnut  hair  a  little,  swung  herself  twice  round  before  the 
glass  in  her  room  to  see  that  her  dress  of  pretty  brown-and- 
white  French  gingham  had  the  proper  fall  and  sweep  for  the 
street,  crowned  her  rattle-head  with  a  coquettish  little. jockey 
hat  (just  then  coming  into  use),  and  sallied  forth  for  a  walk 
and  a  voyage  of  discovery. 

Her  cheeks  glowing  with  the  exercise  of  her  walk  of  a 
mile  and  a  half,  and  her  blood  tingling  pleasantly  with  the 
soft  June  air  and  the  sun  that  she  felt  were  both  playing 
among  the  opening  roses  around  her  old  home  in  the  country, 
the  young  girl  reached  the  little  house  on  Forty-eighth  Street, 
rang,  and  was  admitted  by  Mary  Haviland  herself.  The 
first  glance  that  Kate  caught  of  the  face  of  the  wife,  told  her 
that  some  marked  change  bad  come  upon  her.  She  looked 
troubled,  care-worn  and  anxious,  and  it  did  not  need  much 
imagination  to  believe  that  there  had  recently  been  tears  in 
her  eyes.  This  would  have  been  quite  enough  to  disarm  any 
ungenerous  suspicion  of  her  young  cousin,  and  to  put  the  two 
good,  whole-hearted  and  loveable  little  souls  once  more  en 
rapport  with  each  other,  as  they  had  always  before  been  and 
as  they  never  should  have  ceased  to  be, — but  that  two 
hindrances  intervened.  First:  Kate  noticed  that  when 
Mary  took  her  seat  near  the  window  of  the  front  room  and 
resumed  her  sewing  that  had  been  temporarily  interrupted, 
her  eyes  were  most  of  the  time  downcast  in  a  manner  quite 
unusual  for  her ;  and  that  the  rest  of  the  time  they  were 
glancing  about,  and  especially  towards  the  window,  in  a 
trouble  1  and  restless  wav  that  seemed  furtive  and  anxious  to 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  325 

escape  observation.  This  was  not.  the  Mary  of  old— Kate 
said  to  herself;  and  as  she  had  many  a  time  read  that  the 
eye  of  guilt  was  downcast  and  furtive,  there  seemed  some- 
thing in  her  conduct  to  corroborate  the  most  painful  suspicions. 
Resides— and  here  a  new  light  broke  upon  the  very  keen 
Voting  person,  quite  as  reliable  as  many  of  the  lights  which 
guide  the  feet  of  elder  people  until  they  lose  their  way 
and  tumble  over.  She  had  no  knowledge,  of  course,  that 
Charles  Holt  had  gone  to  Europe:  and  the  thought  crept 
into  her  busy  brain— what  if  his  visits  had  become  so  frequent 
that  Mary  had  no  idea  at  what  time  of  day  another  might 
occur,  and  if  her  furtive  glances  towards  the  window  and  the 
constant  down-casting  of  her  eyes  should  be  in  anxiety  to  see 
him  and  fear  of  an  awkward  arrival  while  she  [Kate]  was  in 
the  house  !  If  she  thought  such  really  was  the  case,  how 
quickly  she  would  get  out  of  that  house  and  never  set  foot 
in  it  again  while  Burnett  Haviland  was  absent  and  such 
visits  were  permitted — never. 

Second:  Mary  Haviland  herself  had  a  word  to  say  about 
any  continued  cordiality  between  Kate  and  herself.  She  had 
depended  much  upon  Kate's  running  over  often  to  see  her, 
and  making  company  in  her  loneliness.  Since  her  husband's 
departure,  she  had  only  called  three  or  four  times,  and  within 
the  past  three  weeks,  not  at  all.     She  probably— Mary  thought 

had    found    gayer   company  down    at  the   rich   house  on 

Twenty-third  Street,  and  did  not  care  to  spend  any  of  her 
valuable  time  upon  a  poor  "  grass-widow."  If  so,  let  her 
stay  away— that  was  all !  And  as  a  consequence,  though 
.Alary  received  her  visitor  kindly  enough,  that  day,  she  did 
so  without  any  pretence  at  cordiality  ;  and  so  barrier  number 
two  between  the  little  women  was  firmly  established. 

Kate  did  not  ask  after  Burtnett  and  when  his  wife  had 
heard  from  him.  She  really  did  not  dare  do  so,  after  her  ob- 
servations of  the  wife's  face  and  manner,  for  fear  of  increasing 
her  agitation  and  producing  an  effect  by  no  means  desirable. 
Mary  wondered  why  she  did  not  inquire,  was  ready  to  pour 
out  her  whole  heart-full  of  trouble  if  she  only  would  do  so, 
and  thought  her  more  heartless  than  ever  from  the  omission. 
So  that  bond  which  miffht  and  should  have  drawn    them  to- 


326  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

getfaer  held  them  apart — not  to  be  joined  again  for — alas  ! — ■ 
how  long  ! 

Does  the  picture  seem  exaggerated  ?  Do  not  kind,  good, 
whole-hearted  people,  who  have  the  dearest  reasons  in  the 
world  for  clinging  together  more  closely  than  one  fibre  of  oak 
to  another,  grow  separated  in  this  manner,  from  vague  sus- 
picions and  slight  misunderstandings  that  should  not  be  al- 
lowed to  influence  them  for  one  moment,  and  sometimes 
never  unite  again  while  the  life  of  both  endures?  "We  feai;, 
too  sadly,  that  they  do,  and  that  in  the  great  day  of  linai 
account,  not  open  quarrels  resulting  from  radical  differ 
but  nameless  nothings  springing  from  one  word  too  much, 
one  glance  too  many,  or  the  lack  of  one  or  the  other,  will  be 
found  to  have  desolated  more  human  hearts  than  all  the 
battle-fields  of  history  have  sacrificed  of  human  bodi* 

The  veriest  commonplaces,  that  might  have  been  indulged 
by  two  strangers  accidentally  meeting,  instead  of  two  persons 
connected  by  the  closest  ties  of  blood  and  old  acquaintance, 
were  the  result  of  all  this.  Little  Pet  ran  in  from  the  other 
room,  eventually,  lugging  a  doll  a  little  larger  than  herself  ; 
and  in  Kate's  involuntary  catching  her  up  and  hugging  her 
out  of  all  discretion,  there  was  for  one  moment  a  chance  that 
the  feelings  of  both  might  melt  and  confidence  be  re-estab- 
lished. But  no  ! — Her  High  Mightiness  was  not  in  the  best 
of  humors,  and  she  had  some  suspicion  that  the  raiment 
of  her  darling  (which  said  darling  had  lost  one  leg  and  was 
in  a  serious  state  of  dilapidation)  might  be  creased  by  the 
too-close  pressure,  and  consequently  she  was  put  down  in  a 
moment,  after  uttering  this  solemn  and  impressive  adjuration 
and  statement : 

"  Put  Pet  down,  Katy  !  'Oo  muss  up  Dolly  !  Pet  don't 
like  'oo  !'' 

Within  ten  minutes  Kate  Haviland  discovered  that  her 
time  was  nearly  exhausted,  or,  in  other  words,  that  she  had 
never  before  found  the  atmosphere  of  the  house  so  uncon- 
genial and  did  not  care  to  stay  in  it  another  moment.  How- 
ever, there  was  one  point  upon  which  she  intended  to  satisfy 
herself  before  leaving — that  of  the  ambrotype.  Though  she 
bad  not  since  heard  any  thing  of  it  as  in  the  possession  of  Mr, 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  327 

Holt  or  the  Fullertous,  yet  thai  such  a  picture  of  Mary  had 
been  in  their  hands  was  beyond  doubt:  would  the  wife,  if 
the  subject  should  be  introduced,  honestly  state  how  it  came 
to  be  out  of  her  own  custody  ?  If  so,  there  might  not  be 
any  serious  misconduct,  after  all  ;  while  falsehood  or  pre- 
varication would  stamp  the  intention  as  an  improper  one  be- 
yond perad venture.  There  was  nothing,  for  this  end,  but  to 
repeat,  with  variations,  the  same  manoeuvre  that  had  been 
practised  upon  Sarah  ;  and  this  the  young  girl  immediately 
put  in  practice.  Shaking  off  her  depression,  so  far  as  was 
possible,  humming  a  snatch,  meanwhile,  from  the  popular 
opera,  "  I  Handorgani,"  she  rose  from  her  chair  and  stepped 
to  the  mantel,  apparently  having  discovered  some  new  beauty 
in  the  photograph  of  Pet  which  hung  over  it.  After  stand- 
ing there  a  moment  and  fumbling  a  little  among  the  pictures 
and  other  incumbrances  of  that  usually  overloaded  receptacle, 
she  said,  in  the  most  natural  of  tones  and  as  if  there  was  not 
a  thought  of  purpose  in  the  inquiry  : 

"  Seems  to  me,  Mary,  that  some  of  your  pictures  are  gone 
off  the  mantel.  What  has  become  of  them  all  ?  There  was 
a  very  pretty  little  ambrotype  of  yourself,  that  I  was  admir- 
ing when  I  came  up  to  the  city  and  meant  to  ask  you  to  give 
me  some  day.     I  don't  see  it  now." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  can  possibly  mean,"  answered 
the  young  wife,  with  that  candor  born  of  truth.  "I  dusted 
off  the  mantel  not  an  hour  ago,  and  every  picture  was  there 
that  has  been  there  for  the  last  six  months,  I  am  sure." 

Kate  turned  and  looked  at  her  as  she  said  this.  Not  one 
indication  in  her  face  that  she  was  telling  a  falsehood  (as  she 
was  not — the  reader  well  knows).  But  Kate  knew  (or 
thought  that  she  knew — which  was  quite  the  same  thing  !) 
that  this  must  be  a  falsehood  ;  and  she  said  to  herself  that 
the  woman  who  could  conceal  or  pervert  the  truth  in  this 
manner,  without  one  sign  of  blenching  on  the  countenance, 
must  be  a  miserable  little  deceiver,  altogether  unworthy  of 
credit  in  any  particular.  Whereupon,  without  any  further 
experiments  as  to  her  cousin's  truth,  she  turned  away  from 
the  mantel,  curtly  said  that  "her  time  was  up,  and  she  must 
go  back  to  her  school-room/'  bade  Mary  good-moruing  and 


328  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

ran  rbwn  the  stairs  to  the  street-door,  lea  vine  the  bouse  with 
a  determination  that  she  would  not  come  into  it  again  in  one 
while — that  she  wouldn't! 

Poor  Mary  Haviland  sighed,  after  Kate  had  left  the  rootti. 
Daring  all  the  brief  visit  she  had  felt  that  some  marked  change 
must  certainly  have  taken  place  in  the  young  gill — that  ber 
words  were  curt  and  her  manner  dictatorial — and  that  the 
last  chance  of  Kate's  affording  to  herself  any  companionship 
during  the  absence  of  her  husband,  was  quite  as  effectually 
gone  as  if  she  had  been  dead.  If  such  was  to  be  the  atmo- 
sphere thrown  out  by  one  of  her  visits,  she  had  no  objection 
whatever  to  her  remaining  absent  all  the  while  ;  for  there  is 
one  thing  worse  than  utter  loneliness — uncongenial  company  ; 
and  at  the  moment  when  Alexander  Selkirk  fancied  himself 
arrived  at  the  summit  of  human  unhappiness  in  his  little 
retirement  on  the  isle  of  Juan  Fernandez,  there  is  no  doubt 
whatever  that  he  might  have  been  made  much  more  miserable 
than  any  loneliness  could  make  him,  by  the  presence  of  one 
ignorant,  peeping,  chattering  human  magpie  of  his  own  s»-x, 
or  one  woman  who  had  the  happy  faculty  of  always  misun- 
derstanding and  crossing  him — always  wanting  to  stay  at 
home  and  scrub  the  poles  of  his  hut  when  he  particularly 
wished  her  to  go  fishing  with  him — always  going  to  sleep  in 
the  midst  of  the  most  thrilling  passage  of  the  story  he  was 
telling  her — and  always  managing  to  be  asleep  and  snoring 
when  he  came  to  bed. 

Kate  Haviland  had  decided  that  Mary's  beaten  eyes,  furtive 
glances  and  general  depression  indicated  "something  wrong." 
So  they  did,  too  truly;  but  how  far  were  they  from  indi- 
cating, in  truth,  what  she  suspected  !  The  young  wife  was 
unhappy — wretched — miserable  ! — how  truly  miserable,  only 
those  can  conjecture  who  have  had  the  whole  fabric  of  their 
happiness  seem  to  crumble  away  as  suddenly  and  as  tho- 
roughly. Yesterday  the  mistress  of  a  happy  home,  with  a 
husband  fondly  loving  and  as  fondly  beloved,  at  her  side  : 
to-day  a  lonely  wife,  widowed  perhaps  by  something  worse 
than  death ! 

Not  one  single  letter  for  a  whole  long  month.  Xot  one. 
Writil  g  often  herself,  but  receiving  no  answer — none. '    There 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  829 

could  bo  DO  mistake  in  the  matter,  for  had  she  not  interro- 
gated the  postman  at  the  door,  after  Waiting  in  vain  for 
weeks,  and  received  his  assurance  that  every  letter  for  that 
distribution  passed  into  Ins  hands,  and  that  none  had  come, 
bearing  her  name?  Tin's  indicated  sickness  and  perhaps 
death.  No — for  iu  the  one  case  some  comrade  would  cer- 
tainly advise  the  wife,  at  his  request,  of  the  situation  of  the 
husband  ;  and  in  the  other  the  officers  of  the  regiment  would 
consider  it  their  duty  to  convey  the  intelligence  of  their 
bereavement  to  the  afflicted  family.  Xo — sickness  or  death 
could  not  be  the  cause:  something  worse  must  certainly  have 
Supervened.     And  what  could  be  that  "something  worse"? 

One  channel  of  information  was  beyond  the  meddling  of 
Charles  Holt  and  his  postman,  and  accessible  to  Mary  Havi- 
laud  as  well  as  to  others.  That  channel  was  the  daily  news- 
paper, with  its  correspondents  everywhere  and  all  the  while 
peeping  and  grasping  for  the  least  item  of  information  con- 
cerning the  men  and  the  movements  of  any  of  the  local 
regiments.  From  the  newspaper  she  learned  that  the  com- 
pany of  the  Fire  Zouaves  to  which  her  husband  belonged, 
had  been  for  some  time  detached  from  the  body  of  the  regiment 
and  employed  in  guarding  the  government  warehouses  in 
Alexandria.  That  company,  then,  was  within  easy  reach  of 
Washington  and  the  mails,  and  the  failure  could  not  .be  on 
account  of  any  difficulty  in  communication.  That  knowledge 
made  the  mystery  greater  and  the  heart  of  the  young  wife 
more  hopelessly  sad  as  she  endeavored  to  fathom  it. 

Then,  only  the  clay  before  Kate's  visit,  she  had  what  ap- 
peared to  be  a  peep  behind  the  curtain.  And  such  a  peep  ! — 
if  a  true  one,  she  prayed  heaven  that  she  might  be  spared 
any  closer  and  more  definite.  That  evening  one  of  her  few 
"  pleasant  neighbors  "  "  happened  in,"  to  chat  a  few  moments 
and  to  "give  her  a  little  company  when  she  knew  she  must 
be  so  lonesome,"  as  the  visitor  kindly  expressed  it.  It  did 
not  become  evident  to  the  wjfe,  but  it  would  have  clone  so  to 
a  close  observer,  that  the  visit  was  paid  especially  to  un bur- 
then the  mind  of  the  visitor  of  certain  news  that  was  trouble- 
some' in  the  keeping  and  needed  help  to  hold  it  properly. 
Not    five    minutes    of  conversation    had   elapsed    when   the 


330  THE       DAY.-      OF      S  H  O  D  I)  Y. 

"  pleasant  neighbor"  took  occasion  to  remark  that  one  of  her 

relatives  had  just  been  down  at  Washington  and  Alexandria, 
and  that,  among  other  persons,  he  had  seen  Burtnctt  Havi- 
land. 

'•  Did  he  see  him  ?"  asked  the  young  wife,  glad  at  last  to 
hear  something-  definite  from  him — that  he  was  alive  and  with 
his  regiment, — and  ready  to  pour  out  her  whole  heart  to  the 
kind  friend  who  had  been  so  good  as  to  bring  her  news  of  her 
husband. 

"  Yes.  he  saw  him,"  said  the  visitor,  "and  no  doubt  you 
are  glad  to  hear  from  him.  though  I  suppose  he  writes  verv 
often." 

The  young  wife  was  just  about  to  give  her  the  startling 
information  that  for  weeks  past  he  seemed  not  to  have  written 
at  all,  and  the  statement  might  have  provoked  comment  and 
inquiry  not  favorable  to  the  success  of  the  plotters  :  but  the 
tongue  of  the  "  pleasant,  neighbor  "  was  too  rapid  for  her,  and 
before  she  could  undeceive  her  on  that  point,  the  informant 
went  on  : 

"  But  oh,  my  dear.  I  don't  believe  your  letters  tell  you  the 
half  of  what  is  going  on  down  there.  The  soldiers  do  not 
appear  to  have  gone  down  to  fight,  but  just  for  a  spree.  You 
must  not  feel  hurt  about  it,  my  dear,  but  John  says  that  the 
company  at  Alexandria  is  doing  nothing  but  drink — drink — 
drink,  gamble,  and — some  other  things  that  I  think  I  had 
better  not  mention  to  you." 

The  heart  of  the  wife  beat  Cjuick  for  an  instant,  then  sunk 
low  and  almost  died  within  her.  But  she  forced  herself  to 
be  calm  and  indeed  to  smile  some  kind  of  a  sickly  libel  upon 
merriment,  as  she  said  : 

"  Oh,  Burtnett  tells  me  that  they  are  enjoying  themselves ; 
but  are  they  so  very  wild  ?" 

"Very  wild?  Enjoying  themselves?  I  should  think  so, 
my  dear!"  said  the  "pleasant  neighbor."  "  Oh,  you  don't 
half  know  what  goings  on  they  have,  nearly  all  the  time  ;  and 
I  fancy  your  husband  would  not  be  very  likely  to  write  in 
any  of  his  letters  what  I  hear  about  him." 

"About  him  f  gapped  the  wife. 

"Yes,  about  him!1'  echoed  the  informant.     "I  don't  know 


THE      DAYS      OF       SHODDY.  331 

that  I  ought  to  have  said  any  thing  about  it.  ]  did  not  mean 
to  say  a  word,  but  I  have  let  my  foolish  tongue  vnn  away 
with  me,  and  gone  so  far,  now,  thai  I  suppose  I  must  tell  you 
the  whole  of  it.      Don't  be  too  much  hurt,  my  dear." 

"  I  ?  oh,  I  shall  not  be  hurt  at  all  I"  answered  the  yxmng 
wife,  forcing  such  a  discordant  laugh  as  some  sufferer  on  the 
rack  might  utter  to  prove  that  mind  was  still  superior  to 
matter. 

"  Soldiers  are  a  horrid  set,  always — no  offence  to  your  hus- 
band, my  dear,"  pursued  the  visitor.  "I  suppose  they  are 
all  alike  when  they  get  away  from  our  sight,  so  there  is  no 
use  in  thinking  too  much  about  them.  Well,  it  seems  that 
the  whole  town  is  full  of  women  of  the  very  worst  character — 
worse  than  any  of  the  dreadful  wretches  on  Broadway,  and 
you  know  how  bad  they  are  !" 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  the  wife,  in  a  low  tone. 

f'Well,"  said  the  visitor,  "the  town  is  full  of  just  snch 
dreadful  women,  and  a  good  many  of  the  soldiers  forget  that 
they  have  any  wives  at  home." 

"  I  do  not  believe  that  of  my  husband  !"  said  the  wife,  with 
a  good  deal  of  her  old  energy  and  a  little  asperity. 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  replied  the  visitor.  "That  is  right — al- 
ways believe  the  best  you  can  of  these  men;  and  bad  enough 
is  the  best,  dear  knows  !  Well,  the  other  night,  while  John 
was  asleep  in  the  quarters  of  one  of  the  officers,  there  was  an 
alarm  and  a  musket  fired,  and  the  sentinels  rushed  towards 
an  old  building  not  far  from  the  dock,  that  was  used  as  a  sort 
of  temporary  prison.  The  evening  before  they  had  been 
obliged  to  put  two  or  three  of  the  worst  of  these  women  up 
in  one  of  the  chambers  of  the  upper  story,  to  prevent  mischief, 
my  dear  ;  and  a  little  after  midnight  the  sentry  in  the  yard 
had  been  nearly  killed  by  a  man  dropping  upon  him  from  the 
window  of  the  room  where  the  women  were  shut  up.  He 
had  fired  his  musket  as  he  fell,  and  that  had  caused  the  alarm. 
When  the  other  sentries  came,  they  found  that  the  man  who 
had  fallen  from  the  window  was  one  of  the  Zouaves.  He 
Mas  drunk,  and  his  leg  was  so  badly  injured  that  he  could  not 
get  away.  They  took  him  up  and  put  him  in  the  guard- 
house.    I  need  not  tell  you,  my  dear,  what  his  name  was  or 


332  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

what  his  character  must  have  been,  to  be  up  among  those 
women,  at  that  time  of  night,  and  then  dropping  out  of  the 
window  !"' 

''And  you  mean  to  say  that  soldier  was — "  gasped  the  wife ; 
and  there  her  voice  failed. 

"  I  mean  to  say  that  soldier  was  your  husband,  if  you  will' 
have  it  all  !"  said  the  informant,  with  the  demeanor  of  a  per- 
son who  had  been  compelled  to  do  a  very  distasteful  duty. 

•'And  I  mean  to  say  that  it  is  a  falsehood — a  base,  cruel 
falsehood  !"  uttered  the  young  wife.  "  I  don't  believe  one 
word  of  it !" 

"Just  as  you  please,  my  dear,"  said  the  "pleasant  neigh- 
bor/' putting  on  an  air  of  offended  dignity.  "  That  is  always 
what  people  get  for  telling  the  truth  !  The  next  time  you 
want  to  hear  from  your  husband,  somebody  else  may  tell  you  !"' 

"I  hope  to  heaven  somebody  else  will  have  sense  enough 
to  keep  such  news  to  themselves  I"  said  the  wife. 

"  Hoity  toity  !"  commented  the  visitor;  and  she  went  away 
in  high  dudgeon,  to  be  a  bitter  enemy  of  Mary  Haviland  ever 
after.  And  it  may  as  well  be  said  that  she  went  away  to  be 
hated  by  Mary  Haviland  quite  as  cordially. 

But  she  left  an  impression  behind  her  that  could  no  more 
be  shaken  off,  however  the  young  wife  might  make  the  effort, 
than  the  earth  can  obliterate  the  chasm  made  in  its  bosom  by 
the  earthquake,  or  the  tree  the  scar  ploughed  down  its  side 
by  the  lightning.  "  I  do  not  believe  one  word  of  it  1"  had 
been  the  reply  to  the  "pleasant  neighbor."  But  "I  do  be- 
lieve too  much  of  it !"  was  her  commtinion  with  her  own 
heart.  She  had  always  heard  terrible  stories  of  the  crimes 
and  vices  of  soldiers,  though  she  had  thought  nothing  of  them 
when  her  husband  went  away,  and  had  not  even  conceived 
the  possibility  of  his  falling  off  from  his  goodness  and  his  love 
for  her,  into  any  of  them.  What  else  than  this  could  really 
be  the  explanation  of  his  long  silence  ?  Had  he  not  indeed 
been  over-tempted,  fallen  into  evil  courses  from  bad  compan- 
ionship, and  then  been  ashamed  even  to  write  to  her  with  the 
same  hand  stained  with  the  coarse  vices  of  the  libertine  ?  He 
might  not  be  utterly  lost  to  her — he  might  come  back  to  her, 
some  day,   if  ihe  chance^  uf  war  should  spare  him,  and  be 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  333 

neatly  the  same.  But  lie  could  never  be  more  than  "  nearly  ;" 
for  when  once  a  scriou^  flaw  be&ina  <<>  exhibit  itself  in  our 
idol,  though  we  may  love  it  still,  we  can  never  worship  it 
more. 

It  was  a  sleepless  night  for  Mary  Tlaviland,  that  followed 
this  revelation  ;  and  in  the  silence  of  the  dark  hours,  hugging 
up  to  her  bosom  the  ehild  that  had  no  longer  slept  in  its  little 
crib  sinee  its  father's  departure,  she  rained  tears  on  its  uncon- 
s-'ions  face,  and  kissed  it,  and  thought  whether  some  day  in 
the  near  future,  that  would  not  be  all  that  she  could  claim  as 
a  reminder  of  the  by-gone  happy  days  !  And  it  was  on  the 
morning  after  that  night,  of  all  the  mornings  of  her  whole  life, 
that  Kate  Haviland  visited  her  and  marked  her  heavy  eyes 
and  her  furtive  glances  at  the  window.  If  the  young  girl 
could  only  have  known  the  fact,  those  glances  at  the  window 
were  the  truest  tests  of  her  agonized  love  for  her  husband  ; 
for  she  was  listening— listening— listening  yet,  for  the  ringing 
of  the  bell  by  the  post-man,  who  might  bring  her  a  letter  to 
disprove  all  her  suspicions  and  quiet  all  her  fears  ;  looking — 
looking— looking  yet,  to  see  him  coming  up  the  street  and 
bringing  some  word  of  comfort  for  her  lonely  heart. 

Suppose  that  at  this  stage  of  the  narrative,  keeping  in 
mind  the  story  of  the  "three  black  crows"  ejected  from  his 
stomach  by  the  unfortunate  subject,— we  "boil  down"  the 
story  of  the  Zouave  dropping  from  the  window,  and  ascertain 
what  truth  there  really  was  in  the  report.  The  task  is  a  very 
brief  one.  During  the  visit  of  the  "  pleasant  neighbor's"  re- 
lative to  Alexandria,  such  a  circumstance  had  really  occurred. 
There  were  a  considerable  number  of  women  of  loose  char- 
acter in  the  town,  a  part  of  them  brought  down  by  a  Elaine 
regiment  that  should  have  been  Puritanic  enough  to  know 
better.  Some  of  them  had  been  abandoned  there  or  left  the 
command  of  their  own  will  when  the  regiment  marched  away. 
On  the  night  in  question  two  or  three  of  the  uproarious  fe- 
males were  really  committed  to  that-  upper  room  in  the  old 
house,  and  locked  up  as  well  as  put  under  guard.  During 
the  night  one  of  the  Zouaves  managed  to  elude  the  sentinel 
and  climb  in  at  the  window,  cat-like,  just  as  he  had  often  be- 
fore done  when  intent  on  saving  life  or  property  at  a  fire. 


354  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

After  a  time  lie  came  out  again,  by  the  Bame  substitute  for  a 
door,  but  was  careless  as  well  as  a  little  tipsy,  missed  his  foot- 
in  «r  and  tumbled  down  into  the  yard  below.  The  sentry  fired 
as  before  stated,  the  other  guards  came  up,  and' the  blending 
of  Leander  and  Sam  Patch  was  taken  away  and  put  under 
loek.  So  far  the  story  had  really  been  told  to  the  "  pleasant 
neighbor''  by  her  returned  relative.  But  what  had  all  this  to 
do  with  Burtnett  ilaviland,  and  how  did  his  name  happen  to 
be  involved  ?  Simply  thus.  One  of  the  sentries  who  came 
up  and  arrested  the  midnight  prowler,  was  the  husband  of 
Mary  Haviland,  and  the  narrator  mentioned  the  circumstance 
of  his  being  an  acquaintance  of  both.  Whether  the  "pleas- 
ant neighbor"  really  managed  to  get  the  names  confused  into 
the  wrong  relation,  or  whether  she  understood  the  fact  all  the 
while  and  merely  thought  that  the  story  would  sound  better 
by  making  that  slight  inversion,  is  a  question  not  easy  to  de- 
cide. She  told  it  as  before  described,  with  the  result  indi- 
cated ;  and  whether  she  blundered  or  plunged  wilfully  into  the 
lie,  is  something  Which  she,  not  we,  may  have  occasion  to 
settle  hereafter. 

Meanwhile,  the  poison  will  not  be  found  without  its  anti- 
dote, if  the  first  ten  readers  will  take  the  lesson  of  this  inci- 
dent and  be  somewhat  more  careful  of  the  exactness  of  the 
next  relation  made  by  each,  that  can  in  any  way  atfect  the 
character  of  others. 

If  Kate  Haviland  left  the  little  house  on  Forty-eighth 
Street,  that  day,  with  her  opinion  of  her  cousin's  wife  sadly 
deteriorated,  she  was  destined  not  to  reach  her  own  home 
before  the  depreciation  should  be  much  more  signal  and  un- 
qualified. It  so  happened  that  at  the  moment  when  she 
quitted  the  house,  Sarah  Sanderson,  having  disposed  of  the 
breakfast-dishes  and  put  the  kitchen  into  the  requisite  order, 
was  about  sallying  out.  basket  on  arm.  to  make  some  family 
pur'-hases  at  the  grocery  at  the  corner.  She  came  down  the 
stoop  very  close  behind 'the  young  teacher,  and  quickening 
her  steps  a  little,  came  up  to  her  before  she  had  half  measured 
the  distance  between  the  house  and  the  Third  Avenue.  The 
two  girls,  as  will  be  remembered,  had  been  born  very 
nearly  together,  and  though  not  moving  in  precisely  the  samo 


>  T  H  E      D  A  Y  8      O  F      8  H  0  D  D  Y.  385 

rank  In  Bociety,  were  necessarily  well  acquainted.  As  ttiey 
joined  company  that  morning,  a  fow  Words  of  conversation 
wviv  inevitable.  These  were  commonplaces,  until  Kate,  full 
of  the  thought  of  her  cousin,  fell  constrained  to  say: 

••  Sarah,  Mrs.  Haviland  says  that  there  has  no  picture  gone 
oil'  the  mantel  since  I  came  to  the  city.'' 

Sarah,  who  well  remembered  the  previous  conversation, 
i'cJt  it  necessary  to  buck  up  what  she  had  said  on  that  occa- 
sion, and  throw  up  her  own  unoccupied  hand  in  holy  horror, 
as  she  exclaimed  : 

"Oh  ! — what — a — story  !" 

"  I  thought  so  !"  said  Kate,  sententiously.  "  But  yon  need 
not  tell  Mrs.  Haviland  that  I  asked  any  thing  about  it.  I 
Suppose  she  knows  her  own  business." 

Something  in  the  £oung  girl's  tone  told  the  servant  that  she 
was  displeased  with  Mary  Haviland  ;  and  that  restless  devil 
of  hate  to  the  wife  of  the  man  she  loved,  lately  called  into 
renewed  life  by  the  wrongs  she  was  inflicting  upon  that  wife, 
suggested  that  this  must  be  the  proper  period  to  speak  a  truth 
to  her  prejudice. 

"  Mrs.  Haviland  ought  to  know  her  own  business. "  said  the 
flaxen-haired  little  wretch.  "But  if  you  had  seen  all  that  / 
have.  Miss  Kate,  maybe  yon  would  not  think  she  did  !" 

Now  if  there  was  any  thing  in  the  world  that  Kate  Haviland 
hated  and  despised,  it  was  prying  into  family  business  through 
servants;  and  at  almost  any  other  time,  had  she  been  so 
addressed  by  Sarah,  she  would  have  closed  the  conversation 
by  the  curt:  "Mind  your  own  concerns,  and  don't  meddle 
with  those  of  your  mistress  I1'  but  just  then  she  was  puzzled 
and  worried.  Eve  has  left  in  all  the  descendants  of  her  own 
sex  (as  well  as  a  few  of  the  other)  proof  that  she  ate  the 
apph-  not  because  >\\^  coveted  or  needed  it,  but  from  curiosity 
t<.  kimw  how  such  a  thing  as  a  golden  pippin  might  taste  ;  and 
t1  e  desire  to  gain  at  least  some  clue  to  the  matter  that  was 
evidently  wrong  in  her  cousin's  family,  made  the  present  temp- 
tation too  strong  for  the  teacher.  She  did  not  rebuff  the  ten- 
derer of  illicit  information,  but  rather  encouraged  as  well  as 
piqued  her  with  : 

"  Ah  ?  and  what  have  yoii  seen,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 


336  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

"  I  seen  ''  (the  writer  Es  not  responsible  for  Miss  Sarah 
Sanderson's  grammar,  any  more  than  for  the  peculiar  lingual 
gymnastics  of  some  of  the  other  characters  embodied  in  this 
story) — "  I  seen  Mr.  Holt,  the  merchant  that  brings  her  the 
money,  have  Mrs.  Haviland  in  his  arms  the  other  night,  hug- 
giri'  and  kissin'  her." 

••  Surah  Sanderson,  yon  are  telling  me  a  lie  !"  said  the 
young  girl,  turning  suddenly  upon  her. 

For  one  instant  the  eves  of  the  servant  blazed  with  rage) 
then  they  softened,  and  she  said,  looking  the  teacher  steadily 
in  the  face  : 

"  I  hope  I  may  die  this  minute,  if  he  didn't,  and  if  I  didn't 
see  it  with  my  own  eyes  !"' 

"  You  dare  swear  to  that  V  asked  Kate  Haviland,  shocked 
and  yet  half  convinced. 

"  I  do  swear  to  it,  now  !''  said  the  girl,  "and  may  I  never 
live  to  see  to-morrow  if  it  is  not  the  truth  !''  The  reader 
knows  that  she  wax  telling  the  truth,  or  at  least  something 
very  nearly  approaching  to  it ;  though  there  has  not  before 
been  occasion  to  reveal  the  fact  that  Sarah  Sanderson,  on  the 
night  before  the  merchant's  departure  for  Europe,  was  keeping 
a  close  watch  through  the  door  between  the  two  rooms,  and 
that  the  merchant  was  not  sufficiently  prudent  in  the  location 
of  his  demonstrations  to  prevent  her  seeing  the  most  import- 
ant event,  that  occurred. 

This  blow,  coming  so  close  upon  the  others,  somewhat 
staggered  the  teacher,  and  made  her  almost  as  blind  in  the 
eyes  and  dizzy  in  the  head  as  she  had  been  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore when  confronted  by  her  own  shame  and  Ned  Minthorne. 
It  would  have  needed  but  little  more  to  make  her  totter  in 
the  street — twenty  years  older,  and  under  the  same  pressure 
of  feeling,  she  would  have  done  so. 

"  Lost !  lost !  oh,  poor  Burtey  ."'  washer  mental  comment. 
But  her  lips  syllabled  something  different,  and  that  was  : 

11  Sarah  Sanderson,  if  you  are  telling  me  the  truth,  you 
have  been  doing  right  in  telling  it  to  me,  because  I  am  a  rel- 
ative ;  but  if  you  ever  say  as  much  to  any  one  else,  even  to 
Mr.  Hiviland  when  he  comes  back,  without  my  permission, 
yon  will  be  doing  very  wrong  and  no  one  can  tell  what  injury 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY  337 

vou  may  cause.  If  you  have  been  telling  a  falsehood,  with 
that  oath — well,  }Tou  will  get  roasted  some  time,  that  is  all  I" 

"  Humph  !  I  don't  care  if  you  never  believe  me  !"  was  the 
model  servant-girl's  reply,  as  having  reached  her  destination 
at  the  corner  grocery,  she  flung  away  into  it  with  her  basket, 
not  over-well  satisfied  with  herself,  while  bonnie  Kate,  to 
escape  the  hot  sunshine  of  the  June  meridian,  took  one  of 
the  cars  just  passing,  and  was  jolted,  jerked  and  pounded 
along  down  the  Avenue  to  Twenty-third  street. 

Sarah  Sanderson  would  have  been  somewhat  better  satis- 
fied than  she  really  was  when  she  stepped  into  the  grocery 
at  the  corner,  could  she  have  known  the  impression  really 
made  by  her  words.  The  information  tallied,  though  shame- 
fully, with  all  the  circumstances  that  had  preceded  it,  and 
Kate  Haviland  believed  so  much  of  the  story  that  she  would 
almost  have  given  her  right  hand  for  the  privilege  of  dis- 
crediting it.  Her  actual  concern  at  the  apparent  heart- 
lessness  of  Mary  and  her  shame  at  belonging  to  the  same  sex 
that  could  deceive  under  such  a  guise  of  angels  of  light,  found 
an  odd  blending  with  the  reserved  merriment  of  her  own 
character,  just  as  she  stepped  from  the  car  at  Twenty-third 
street  and  tripped  along  towTards  what  she  sometimes  men- 
tally designated  as  the  Fullerton  "  menagerie,"  with  herself 
the  Amazon  Queen  and  trainer  of  the  animals,  in  the 
characteristic  remark,  not  more  than  half  muttered  : 

"  I  wish  to  gracious  I  was  not  a  woman  !  I  shall  trick 
somebody  one  of  these  days,  I  know  I  shall  !  No — I  don't 
wish  any  thing  of  the  kind,  though  ;  for  if  I  was  a  man  I  should 
never  know  what  to  do  with  my  big  hands,  and  a  pretty 
figure  I  should  cut  with  a  crop  of  sedge-grass  growing  on 
my  chin — ough  I" 

21 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

More  of  Kate  Hayiland — Her  biggest  and  most  im- 
portant Pupil — Ned  Minthorne  in  a  new  character — 
Tobacco-smoke  and  impudence  in  the  School-room — A 
new  theory  in  xatural  hlstory — how  the  million- 
aire inspected  the  common  people,  you  know — kate 
Haviland  making  another  Discovery  and  executing  a 
war-dance. 

Miss  Katy  had  thrown  off  the  worst  of  her  depression, 
and  concluded  to  live  and  be  as  happy  as  possible,  in  spite 
of  all  the  wickedness  that  she  supposed  to  exist  in  the  world, 
— at  about  the  time  she  reached  the  house  so  flatteringly 
designated  in  the  previous  chapter,  tripped  up  to  her  cham- 
ber and  disrobed  herself  of  her  walking  attire,  preparatory 
to  entering  the  il  cage"  with  her  "  animals." 

When  she  did  so,  or  in  other  words  descended  to  the 
school-room  in  which  she  by  that  time  expected  to  find  her 
pupils,  she  found  only  one  bearing  that  relation,  and  that  one 
was  altogether  of  an  odd  sex  and  style  to  come  under  the 
tuition  of  a  young  lady,  though  a  good  many  inconsiderate 
persons,  holding  the  same  relative  position,  have  first  or  last  put 
themselves  under  the  same  perilous  influence.  In  short. 
Kate  Haviland's  single  pupil  was  of  the  male  sex,  approach- 
ing six  feet  high,  and  looking  old  enough  to  have  mastered 
nearly  all  the  rudiments  of  ordinary  education. 

He  sat  at  her  desk,  or  perhaps  it  may  be  more  correctly 
stated  that  he  sat  on  it,  as  though  a  portion  of  his  person 
rested  on  the  arm  chair  in  which  the  dainty  figure  of  the 
young  girl  generally  reposed  when  she  was  throned  in  her 
full  authority,  he  leaned  back  so  far  that  at  least  half  his 
length,  including  all  his  legs,  was  sprawled  upon  the  desk,  his 
338 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHOD  I)  Y .  309 

patent-leathers  just  cosily  perched  between  the  ink-stand  and 
the  pot  of  mucilage,  and  his  stupendous  width  of  trousers 
(then  an  innovation,  now  an  almost  exploded  antiquity) 
literally  covering  the  whole  of  the  green  cloth  of  which  the 
top  of  the  article  of  school-furniture  was  composed.  The 
trowsers  aforesaid,  as  well  as  the  coat  that  surmounted  them 
ami  the  vest  which  formed  an  isthmus  between  the  two  con- 
tinents of  clothing,  was  of  a  very  light  creamy  gray,  the 
nearest  possible  approach  to  white  without  being  it ;  the  hat 
which  surmounted  his  head  was  of  the  same  color,  round 
and  low  in  the  crown  and  narrow  in  the  brim,  reminding  the 
observer  something  of  an  inverted  soup-plate  applied  to  im- 
proper uses  (such  hats  have  since  that  time  become  common, 
but  never  "proper,"  although  dignified  by  the  name  of 
"tourist");  the  neck-tie  which  confined  his  garotte  was  of 
the  richest  and  bloomiest  cherry-color,  and  the  kid-gloves 
covering  his  well-shaped  hands  were  the  nearest  approach 
that  could  be  found  at  Stewart's,  to  the  same  tropical  hue. 
A  switch  malacca  cane,  with  the  counterfeit  presentment  of 
a  woman's  bent  leg  as  the  head,  lay  across  his  lap;  and  all 
this,  and  the  book  which  the  student  seemed  to  be  attentively 
perusing,  was  to  be  seen  through  a  halo  of  tobacco-smoke 
emanating  from  a  cigar  of  the  Emperor  brand,  not  less  than 
eight  inches  in  length  and  good  for  a  cost  of  two  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars  the  thousand,  which  reposed  in  a  state  of 
blissful  conflagration  between  his  lips. 

This  was  Kate's  pupil,  by  name  Ned  Minthorne  ;  and  she 
must  have  lost  something  of  the  awe  with  which  he  had 
inspired  her  on  that  eventful  morning  of  their  first  meeting, 
for  her  first  act  on  taking  in  the  whole  aspect  of  the  man  and 
his  surroundings,  was  to  forget  all  that  had  oppressed  her 
during  the  morning,  to  literally  double  up  with  merriment 
until  she  leaned  against  the  doorframe  for  support,  and  to  laugh 
one  of  those  loud,  clear,  ringing,  girlish  laughs  which  the 
hackneyed  woman  of  the  world  would  give  half  the  charms 
she  has  managed  to  preserve, — to  be  able  to  throw  out  once 
more.  One  of  those  peals  which  combine  the  exquisite 
melody  of  the  human  voice  with  the  trill  of  a  black-bird 
singing   in    the  alders    by  some  brook-side  early  in  spring. 


340  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

One  of  those  embodiments  of  mirth  and  melody  for  which  we 
might  have  been  puzzled  to  find  a  fitting  comparison,  had 
Adelina  Patti,  the  little  red-bird  of  song,  never  rippled  out 
"  Una  voce,"  "  Batti  baiti,"  UE  d'amarmi," — or  her  rival 
sister  Carlotta  never  trilled  that  "  Laughing  Song"  Which 
even  makes  us  forget  bird-music. 

Ned  Minthorne,  millionaire  and  noodle,  rather  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  laugh  than  otherwise,  when  it  had  made  him  fully 
aware  of  the  presence  of  the  young  girl.  He  dropped  his 
book  a  little  lower,  but  neither  put  it  down  altogether  nor 
took  down  his  feet  from  the  desk,  as  he  said  : 

"  Oh,  you  are  there,  are  you — you  know  !  Come  here  ! — 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  !" 

"Bah  !  you  wretch,  spoiling  my  room  and  making  me  sick 
the  whole  day  with  your  tobacco-smoke  !  I  wish  they  would 
take  you  men  and  use  you  for  chimneys  when  they  build 
houses,  so  that  you  could  become  avenues  for  smoke  to  your 
heart's  content !"  was  the  emphatic  response  to  this  modest 
demand. 

"  Ha  ha  !  he  he  !"  laughed  the  millionaire,  with  such  an 
expression  of  idiocy  that  it  wTas  really  pitiable.  "Not  a  bad 
idea,  by  gracious !  I'll  ask  Trimble,  when  he  builds  my  next 
block  of  houses,  if  he  can't  put  in  half-a-dozen  fellows  I  know 
— you  know." 

"  Xed  Minthorne — stop  that !"  was  the  reply  to  this  speech. 
What  the  lady  meant,  may  be  something  of  a  mystery  to  us, 
but  it  did  not  seem  to  be  to  the  object  of  the  command,  for 
the  expression  of  his  face  changed  instantly ;  and,  strangely 
enough,  he  did  not  seem  to  feel  that  his  dignity  was  outraged 
by  that  simple  girl,  without  wealth  or  position,  and  nothing 
but  a  school-teacher,  addressing  him  in  that  reprehensibly 
familiar  manner.  There  is  reason  to  believe  that  had  either 
the  dignified  Mrs.  Fullerton  or  her  exigeant  daughter  over- 
heard that  style  of  address,  however,  there  would  have  been 
stormy  weather  in  and  about  that  latitude,  very  shortly  after- 
wards. 

Xot  yet  did  the  millionaire  noodle  make  any  movement  to 
take  down  his  feet  from  the  desk.  He  seemed,  in  fact,  to  be 
q'lite  as  much  at  ease  in  that  position  when  the  young  mis- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  341 

tress  of  the  room  was  present,  as  he  had  been  when  alone. 
He  merely  held  out  his  hand— that  hand  so  burthcned  with 
the  immease  seal-ring— and  said,  again  : 

"  Come  here." 

The  young  girl  crossed  the  room  and  held  out  her  hand. 
He  took  it  in  his,  lifted  it  to  his  lips  with  a  gesture  of  courtly 
grace  that  would  have  sat  well  upon  him  if  he  had  not  been 
a  fool,  and  pressed  his  lips  to  the  fingers  that  were  yet  rosy 
with  the  flush  of  her  morning's  exercise.  The  movement  did 
not  seem  to  be  at  all  repulsive  to  the  young  girl,  even  if  it 
had  not  been  expected,  for  the  hand  rested  in  that  of  the 
millionaire  a  moment  even  after  he  had  lowered  it  from  his 
lips. 

"  Stop,"  said  Kate.     "  Where  are  they  ?" 

"  They— ah— the  rhinoceros  and  the  young  filly  are  both 
gone  out  with  the  cub,  and  not  back  yet,"  was  the  zoological 
response  to  this  very  enigmatical  question. 

"  For  shame  !"  said  the  teacher. 

"Well,  I  am  ashamed— see  me  blush  !"  said  the  pupil. 

"  Back  of  your  ears,  so  that  nobody  can  see  it !"  was  the 
response. 

"How  very  well  you  are  looking  this  morning  !"  said  tho 
millionaire.  "Now  that  I  see  you  closer,  you  are  almost 
handsome." 

"Am  I  ?"  answered  the  young  girl,  with  a  pout  on  her  lip, 
real  or  assumed.  "  Well,  you  are  not !  You  look  like  every 
thing  that  is  dreadful,  in  that  new  suit.  It  is  new,  isn't  it'? 
Get  off  my  desk,  and  come  out  here  where  I  can  have  a  fair 
look  at  all  that  cream-color  and  red." 

And  before  the  millionaire  could  quite  conjecture  what  she 
was  about  to  do,  the  teacher  caught  him  by  the  shoulder, 
seizing  the  chair  at  the  same  time,  and  gave  him  such  a  whirl 
that  the  extensive  legs,  trowsers  and  all,  came  off  the  desk  in 
double-quick  time,  and  the  owner  had  occasion  for  quite  all 
his  gymnastic  experience  to  prevent  his  measuring  his  length 
upon  the  floor.  He  proved  equal  to  the  occasion,  however, 
and  landed  safely  upon  his  feet  in  the  middle  of  the  room, 
concluding  the  performance  by  one  of  those  appeals  for  ap- 
plause so  commonly  made  by  prima  donne  and  premieres 


342  TIIE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

dahstuses  at  the  theatres.  Though  not  much  used  to  the 
habits  of  those  places  of  amusement,  the  young  girl  under- 
stood the  gesture  and  patted  applause  with  her  little  hands, 

the  compliment  being  received  with  a  low  how  and  the  lead- 
ing performer  thereafter  remaining  erect, 

"And  you  don't  like  it,  eh  ?"  was  the  inquiry  of  the  ill-used 
individual,  when  he  had  finally  reached  the  perpendicular. 

"As  a  means  of  using  up  a  good  deal  of  cloth  and  hiding 
away  the  man  so  that  no  one  can  find  him,  the  thing  is  rather 
a  success,"  said  the  young  girl,  u  but  as  a  suit  of  clothes — no, 
I  don't  like  it  in  the  least." 

"  Expect  to  see  me  in  black,  then,  to-morrow,"  said  the 
pupil,  "  and  that  black  fitting  me  a  little  closer  than  my  skin. 
Will  that  suit  ? — I  mean,  will  that  suit  suit  ?" 

"Don't  be  a  ninny!"  was  all  the  reply,  which  certainly 
seemed  an  inappropriate  one,  as  addressed  to  a  man  who  had 
been  recognized  as  a  fool  from  the  moment  of  his  entrance 
into  society. 

"  Where  have  you  been  ?"  asked  the  millionaire,  in  the 
most  matter-of-fact  tone  in  the  world,  and  precisely  as  if  he 
thought  that  he  had  a  right  to  ask  the  question, — dropping 
into  a  chair  at  the  same  time. 

"  Xone  of  your  business,  impudence!"  was  the  reply. 
"And  yet  I  don't  care  if  I  tell  you.  I  have  been  visiting  at 
the  house  of  a  man  whose  wife  has  forgotten  him  in  a  little 
more  than  a  month  of  absence.     What  do  you  think  of  that  ?" 

"A  month  is  a  long  time — you  know,"  drawled  the  mil- 
lionaire— the  first  drawl  he  had  vented  in  a  considerable  pe- 
riod, it  will  be  observed, — and  indulged  in  apparently  more 
as  a  matter  of  habit  than  from  any  natural  proclivity  to  that 
mode  of  utterance. 

"  Stop  !"  said  the  young  girl,  holding  up  her  finger  with  a 
gesture  of  mock  threatening. 

"What  a  little  tyrant  you  are  !"  said  the  millionaire,  with- 
out the  least  drawl  whatever. 

"I  mean  to  be  worse,"  said  the  teacher,  "if  you  keep  in- 
truding on  my  school-room  and  disarranging  every  thing. 
And  there  is  vour  book  on  the  floor.  What  were  you  read- 
ing ?» 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  348 

"  See  !"  answered  the  millionaire,  picking  up  the  book  and 
handing-  it  to  her. 

V  Natural  History,  upon  my  word  !     Who  would  have  be- 
lieved that  you  could  peruse  any  thing  so  practical?"  com 
inented  the  lady. 

"  I  ?  oh,  I  am  very  practical,"  said  the  millionaire.  "But 
by  the  way,  your  book  is  not  extensive  enough — does  not  go 
deep  enough  into  the  relations  of  the  different  classes  of  birds. 
Did  it  ever  strike  you  that  the  mosquito  is  lineally  descended 
from  the  crane  or  the  blue  heron — some  one  of  those  long- 
legged  birds  that  they  used  to  fly  their  falcons  at  ?  Scare 
your  mosquito  a  little,  after  he  is  gorged,  as  I  did  one  a  little 
while  ago,  and  he  rises  just  as  the  heron  used  to  do  when  he 
saw  the  falcon  coming — his  long  legs  dangling  behind  him  in 
the  same  manner ;  and  I  am  going  to  look  over  my  Buffon 
and  my  Cuvier,  to-morrow,  to  see  whether  either  of  those  old 
jokers  recognized  the  resemblance." 

"  Will  you  ever  get  done  with  that  nonsense  ?"  was  the  re- 
ply to  all  this. 

"  If  that  is  nonsense,  I  would  like  to  know  where  your 
wisdom  is  to  be  found  !"  said  the  amateur  naturalist.  "  Oh, 
I  suppose  you  expect  to  find  that  in  another  description  of 
bird — the  owl — the  totem  of  school-mistresses." 

"  As  the  jack-daw  is  of  lazy  fellows  with  fine  clothes  l* 
shot  back  the  teacher. 

"  Good — very  good  !  you  will  be  almost  witty,  by-and-bye  !" 
was  the  encouraging  reply,  the  male  hands  patting  applause 
in  their  turn. 

"  Hark  !"  said  the  young  girl. 

"  Yes,  I  hear,"  said  the  millionaire.  "  The  caravan  is  ar- 
riving. I  will  run  down  to  the  parlor — you  know.  Day-day  !" 
and  he  held  out  his  hand  once  more  for  that  of  the  young 
girl,  who  responded  to  the  gesture  and  allowed  him  to  kiss 
her  fingers  with  the  same  courtly  manner  as  before,  though 
she  replied  to  his  farewell  with  a  rather  equivocal  com- 
pliment : 

"Day-day,  you  goose  !" 

Xed  Minthorne  left  the  room  and  took  his  way  to  the 
parlor  on  the  floor  below,  awaiting  the  coming  in  of  his  ex- 


34-i  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

pectant  mother-in-law  and  his  still  more  expectant  bride  ; 
and  when  those  important  personages  finally  disembarked 
and  reached  that  place  of  family  resort,  they  found  the  young 
man  playing  a  medley  of  airs  on  the  piano  there,  in  which 
"  Old  Hundred,"  the  "  Last  Rose  of  Summer"  and  "  I'll  Bet 
my  Money  on  the  Bob-tailed  Hoss"  seemed  to  be  blended 
about  as  oddly  as  ideas  were  generally  supposed  to  be  in  his 
queers-constituted  brain. 

Kate  Haviland  walked  the  floor  in  silence  and  evidently  in 
thought,  after  the  millionaire  had  left  the  room.  She  had 
been  merry  and  almost  merry-mad  in  his  presence:  a  very 
different  mood  appeared  to  possess  her  at  that  moment.  And 
yet  the  expression  on  her  face  did  not  seem  to  be  actually  one 
of  trouble — it  was  more  like  deep  and  absorbed  feeling,  with 
a  little  wonder  and  newness  (so  to  speak)  blended  with  the 
other  mental  ingredients. 

Of  all  the  odd  things  that  could  have  been  imagined,  possi- 
bly the  oddest  was  to  find  the  proud,  vacuous  ninny  million- 
aire a  habitue  of  Kate  Haviland's  school-room  and  so  much 
at  home  there  that  both  he  and  the  gay  young  girl  could  take 
liberties  in  speech  that  are  not  likely  to  be  taken  except  by 
the  most  intimate  acquaintances.  And  it  might  have  been 
supposed  that  such  an  intimacy  could  not  exist  in  the  house 
of  Mrs.  Fullerton.  And  yet  it  did  so,  not  only  with  the 
knowledge  of  that  good  lady,  but  of  her  daughter.  No  one 
but  a  recognized  fool  could  have  been  permitted  to  form  the 
same  intimacy,  within  the  walls  of  that  house,  and  yet  re- 
tained his  relations  with  mother  and  daughter — that  fact  is 
beyond  question.  But  every  reader  knows  that  among  all 
savage  nations  the  half-witted  are  held  sacred  and  permitted 
to  do  many  things  from  which  ordinary  mortals  are  debarred. 
There  had  been  a  "flare-up,"  as  we  have  seen,  when  Ned 
Minthorne  first  mentioned  having  met  Kate  Haviland  upon 
the  stairs ;  but  afterwards,  when  he  one  day  requested  Miss 
Dora  to  "take  him  to  the  school-room  and  let  him  see  how 
they  managed  that  sort  of  thing — you  know,"  she  graciously 
accorded  the  privilege,  without  the  slightest  idea  that  he  had 
ever  before  been  inside  the  walls  of  that  room.  And  when 
he  afterwards  took  a  fancy  to  stroll  in  and  see  the  children 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  345 

study,  without  her  company,  and  she  chose  to  say  something 
ill-natured  about  it,  he  quite  disarmed  her  by  saying  that  "a 
fellow  ought  to  learn  something  about  such  things  as  the 
nursery  and  the  school-room  and  all  that  sort  of  thing — you 
know,  because  he  might  some  day  have  such  things  of  his 
own."  Dora  Fullerton  meant  that  he  should  at  least  enter 
upon  wedlock,  that  recognized  preliminary  to  the  filling  of 
educational  halls;  and  her  blush  and  simper,  accompanied  by 
a  slap  of  the  hand  intended  to  be  playful,  gave  the  millionaire 
thereafter  the  entree  to  the  school-room.  And  if  for  a  mo- 
ment mother  or  daughter  could  have  believed  that  any  dan- 
ger was  possible  from  such  visits,  they  would  both  have  beeu 
quite  re-assured  by  the  air  with  which  he  informed  them,  on 
his  second  or  third  visit,  that  "it  was  really  devilish  refresh- 
ing— that  is,  funny,  you  know — to  see  those  common  people 
doing  things — he  had  not  been  used  to  that  sort  of  people — 
you  know."  Thus  was  repaired  every  breach  in  the  social 
wall,  and  all  anxiety  was  dismissed. 

The  millionare  oddity  had  strolled  into  and  out  of  the 
school-room,  sometimes  when  he  came  to  the  house  and 
found  the  family  absent — sometimes  when  Dora  gave  evi- 
dence of  being  bored  with  him  and  virtually  gave  him  per- 
mission to  "go  away  "  He  generally,  in  fact  always,  when 
either  Myra  or  Mildred  was  present,  sat  silently  studying 
the  sublime  mysteries  of  teaching,  or  dawdling  with  a  book. 
There  could  not  be  any  harm  in  that — could  there  ?  Rea- 
sonable people  would  be  likely  to  think  not !  And  as  both 
writer  and  reader  are  supposed  to  be  reasonable  people,  the 
one  has  no  hesitation  in  assuring  the  other  that  so  far  as  he 
knows,  no  harm  whatever  resulted.  If  the  millionaire  and 
the  school-teacher  at  this  stage  addressed  each  other  some- 
what familiarly  and  seemed  to  have  a  good  understanding, 
the  fact  only  proved  that  America  was  growing  to  be  more 
truly  a  republic  than  before;  and  if  the  millionaire  was  a  little 
more  careful  of  his  language  in  the  young  girl's  presence 
tlntn  when  otherwise  confronted,  what  did  that  prove  except 
that  the  school-room  had  been  found  a  profitable  place  of 
study  even  for  the  noodle  ? 

But  here  this  theme  must  be  dismissed,  as  to  Mr.  Ned 


346  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

Minthome  ;  though  Kate  Haviland  does  not  ye  disappear 
from  view. 

After  her  promenade  which  followed  the  departure  of 
Minthome,  the  young:  girl,  still  apparently  absorbed  in 
thought,  sat  down  at  her  desk,  leaned  her  head  upon  her 
hand,  and  closed  her  eyes,  waiting  the  coming  of  the  chil- 
dren, who  would,  as  she  supposed,  be  sent  in  by  their 
mother  (to  get  them  out  of  the  way)  the  moment  their  hats 
and  street-dresses  were  removed. 

She  had  no  need  to  wait  long,  for  one  of  her  pupils,  at 
least.  A  trampling  like  that  of  a  couple  of  race-horses  was 
heard  in  the  little  chamber  adjoining  the  school-ivooiu.  used 
by  Mrs.  Fullerton  as  a  wardrobe  ;  and  through  it  the  two 
children  dashed  from  their  own,  opening  the  door  so  vio- 
lently as  to  threaten  the  integrity  of  the  latch,  and  plunging 
in  as  if  learning  was  the  sweetest  morsel  in  the  world  and 
they  had  been  kept  in  a  state  of  starvation  from  want  of  it. 
Mi.-.-  Myra  preceded,  bearing  in  her  arms  oue  of  the  drawers 
of  Mrs.  Fullerton's  private  bureau,  which  she  had  unfortu- 
nately found  unlocked  and  partially  open  as  she  came 
through  the  room,  a  heap  of  finery  of  every  description, 
blended  with  small  packages  wrapped  in  paper,  and  a  mis- 
cellaneous jumble  of  almost  every  thing  that  a  careless 
woman  would  throw  into  some  spot  of  which  she  always 
kept  the  key,  showing  in  charming  profusion  from  the  top 
of  the  drawer.  Behind  her  came  Miss  Mildred,  who  had 
paused  in  the  clothes-room  long  enough  to  array  herself  in  a 
silk  apron,  a  mantilla  and  a  costly  veil  belonging  to  Dora,  the 
very  sight  of  which  in  such  use  would  have  driven  that  young 
person  of  weak  nerves  very  nearly  into  hysterics.  It  was 
evident,  at  a  glance,  that  neither  of  the  children  had  sup- 
posed the  teacher  to  be  within  the  school-room,  and  that 
they  had  made  up  their  vigorous  minds  for  a  spree  among 
Ma's  and  Dora's  finery,  with  that  room  as  a  capital  place 
for  its  display. 

The  sight  of  the  teacher  sitting  at  the  desk  somewhat  took 
the  two  young  ladies  aback,  and  they  paused  suddenly,  just 
within  the  door — very  suddenly,  in  fact.  The  stoppage  was 
the  more  violent,  without  doubt,  from  the  energetic  exclaina- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  347 

tion  of  Kate:  "What  have  you  been  doing,  yon  young 
flunkeys!"  and  aware  that,  discovered,  they  would  at  onco 
fee  obliged  to  disgorge  their  plunder,  they  turned  to  retrace" 
their  steps;  But  they  had  come  in  very  violently;  Mildred, 
behind,  ran  upon  Myra  in  front  ;  the  drawer  that  the  latter 
carried  was  nearly  as  large  as  herself  and  altogether  too 
bulky  for  safe  holding  in  small  hands;  and  the  result  of  all 
tli is  was  that  the  foot  of  Mildred  caught  in  her  long  mantilla, 
she  fell  against  Myra,  and  the  two  children  and  the  drawer 
went  down  in  a  heap  and  with  a  crash,  about  half  the  articles 
in  the  drawer  aforesaid  temporarily  emancipating  themselves 
from  confinement  and  flying  out  upon  the  car-pet. 

The  children  scrambled  to  their  feet  pretty  rapidly ;  and 
at  the  word  of  command  from  the  teacher:  "Pick  up  every 
one  of  those  things,  and  put  them  back  where  they  belong, 
instantly  !"  accompanied  by  an  energetic  stamp  of  the  foot, 
— Myra  scrambled  up  all  the  articles  that  she  saw,  thrust 
them  back  into  the  drawer,  and  the  two  disappeared  through 
the  door  about  as  rapidly  as  they  had  first  made  their  ap- 
pearance. 

"  What  a  beautiful  row  there  would  be  before  many  hours, 
if  I  should  allow  the  two  seraphs  to  play  all  the  finery  into 
ribbons!"  said  the  young  girl  to  herself;  and  just  then 
chancing  to  cast  her  eyes  on  the  floor  behind  one  of  the  chairs 
near  the  door,  she  discovered  that  quite  a  number  of  small 
articles  of  the  finery  had  fallen  at  that  distance  and  not  been 
seen  by  the  child  in  picking  up  the  contents  of  the  drawer. 
She  was  on  the  point  of  calling  Myra  back  and  enforcing 
discipline  by  making  her  pick  up  the  remainder,  but  finally 
concluded  to  perform  the  office  herself,  take  the  lost  articles 
into  the  room  and  see  that  the  drawer  was  properly  restored 
to  its  place  and  the  clothing  hung  where  it  belonged. 

A  pair  of  gloves,  a  roll  of  ribbon,  an  India  fan  and  two 
a  of  paper  were  the  articles  which  had  managed  to  get 
behind  the  chair,  and  which  the  young  school-teacher  thus 
rescued.  Both  the  papers  were  of  the  dimensions  of  a  full 
sheet  of  foolscap  p'j per  folded  four  times  into  the  shape  of  a 
document  for  Ming  or  sending  by  letter.  Neither  had  any 
indorsement  on  the  back  ;   and  the  teacher  would  probably 


348  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

have  carried  them  at  once  into  the  room  and  disposed  of 
them,  had  not  the  singularity  of  color  of  the  one  attracted 
her  attention.  It  was  very  yellow  and  seemed  so  old  that 
she  fancied  it  might  be  some  document  connected  with  the 
early  history  of  the  family — perhaps  even  as  far  back  as  the 
time  of  the  Revolution,  when  the  Brixtones  might  have  had 
something  to  do  with  Sumter  or  Marion — with  Eutaw  or 
King's  Mountain.  The  young  girl  did  not  know  how  rapidly 
paper  sometimes  musts  and  yellows  when  shut  away  from 
light  and  air,  and  how  a  document  that  has  only  seen  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  may  put  on  the  semblance  of  four  times  that 
age.  Believing  that  it  must  be  very  old,  and  having  a  very 
big  bump  of  reverence  for  every  thing  of  the  antique,  hidden 
away  somewhere  under  the  chestnut  hair — she  took  the  lib- 
erty of  just  opening  that  yellow  paper  before  returning  the 
articles  to  the  room  where  they  belonged,  and  saw — what  ? 
It  is  not  the  province  of  this  narration  to  say  precisely  what, 
at  the  present  moment.  Something  that  at  first  interested 
her  by  its  novelty,  because  she  had  never  before  seen  a  paper 
of  the  kind ;  then  something  that  struck  her  by  a  similarity 
of  names  and  made  her  start  as  if  a  small  bomb-shell  had 
burst  in  one  corner  of  the  apartment.  She  looked  again  at 
the  paper — rubbed  her  eyes — muttered  over  a  name  or  two 
as  if  in  surprise  and  some  doubt — then  read  the  paper  all 
over  again,  stuck  it  into  that  inevitable  pocket,  and  sat  down 
at  her  desk. 

Two  or  three  minutes  of  uninterrupted  meditation,  with 
her  head  between  both  hands,  and  then  the  young  girl  raised 
it  with  such  a  shake  as  almost  sent  the  chestnut  hair  flying 
loose  down  her  shoulders,  sprang  to  her  feet  with  the  not- 
over-iutelligible  exclamation:  "It  must  be  so  ! — it  is  so  !  A 
pretty  party,  you  are  !  Hurrah  for  Jackson  !"  and  then  and 
thereupon  went  into  a  saltatory  movement  about  the  room, 
which  might  have  been  a  waltz  if  she  had  only  found  a  part- 
ner, but  which  really  seemed  to  be  accompanied  by  such  sup- 
pressed convulsions  of  laughter,  such  writhings  and  contor- 
tions of  delight,  and  such  un-christian  movements  generally, 
as  to  suggest  the  war-dance  of  a  very  athletic  young  Indian 
just  after  he  has  taken  the  scalp  of  his  hereditary  enemy. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SIIOD  DY.  349 

Tho  teacher  had  certainly  made  a  strange  discovery,  the 
full  amount  and  purport  of  which  will  soon  be  under- 
stood— unearthed  a  secret  which  had  lain  buried,  not  for  a 
hundred  years,  but  for  many  more  than  all  those  numbered  in 
her  own  life.  A  secret,  the  knowledge  of  which  might  exer- 
cise an  untold  influence  upon  her  own  fortunes  and  those 
of  others.  And  all  this  by  a  mere  accident!  No  ! — let  the 
word  be  substituted  by  that  better  word,  providence,  and 
then  let  the  wonder  cease. 

There  are  no  "accidents,"  really,  though  we,  pretending  to 
be  a  Christian  people,  delight  in  so  expressing  ourselves  as  to 
deny  the  existence  of  a  God  capable  of  exercising  an  over- 
sight upon  a  human  life,  oftener  than  once  in  a  twelvemonth. 
The  fact  is  that  he  exercises  it  continually,  in  every  instant 
of  that  human  life,  or  not  at  all  !  It  was  no  accident,  the 
other  day,  which  sent  half  a  dozen  steam-tugs  in  to  a  certain 
pier  at  the  same  time,  all  ready  to  steam  out  again 'at  an  in- 
stant's warning  and  save  the  lives  perilled  by  one  huge 
steamer  making  her  course  between  the  two  severed  ends  of 
another.  Others  than  the  architect  of  St.  Peter's  and  the 
spiller  of  ink  over  bad  manuscript,  "build  better  than  they 
know,"  not  only  in  the  tragic  but  the  comic.  It  was  not 
even  accident,  but  a  sense  of  fitness  weighing  upon  her,  of 
which  she  was  entirely  unconscious,  which  induced  a  sleepy 
young  lady  coming  home  late  from  the  Japanese  Ball,  to  hang 
her  "  order  of  dancing"  of  that  great  event,  on  the  umbrella 
of  Aminadab  Sleek,  in  Karl  Muller's  statuette  of  that  Burto- 
nian  character,  occupying  one  end  of  the  mantel.  It  belonged 
in  that  place,  by  the  inevitable  fitness  of  things,  and  would 
have  been  wasted  anywhere  else. 

And  there  is  no  wonder,  even  if  a  singularity,  in  the  late 
discovery  of  that  which  has  long  remained  hidden.  The  eye 
sees  what  it  needs  to  see,  at  once  :  all  that  remains  it  after- 
wards takes  in  by  degrees  if  at  all.  Very  often  it  goes  to 
the  end  without  discovering  half  which  really  lies  in  the 
possibility  of  sight.  Only  last  summer,  at  Niagara,  a  habitue 
who  had  made  that  popular  resort  his  "stamping-ground" 
every  summer  for  twenty  years,  came  in  to  dinner  one  day, 
big  with  the  discovery  of  a  tree  of  gigantic  proportions  and 


60U  THE      DAYS      OF      SHOPPY. 

great  beauty,  that  he  had  never  seen  before,  on  that  very 
limited  continent,  Goat  Island. 

Going  up  the  Hudson  a  dozen  years  ago,  the  wr.ter  was  in 
the  pilot-house  of  the  steamer  with  an  old  North  River  pilot 
who  had  passed  up  and  down  the  river  nearly  every  day  for 
thirty  years.  Just  above  AYest  Point,  on  that  occasion,  he 
looked  off  to  the  west  bank  and  said:  "By  George,"  [or  some 
o'.her  name]  "there  is  a  house  I  never  saw  before  !"  The 
writer  looked,  and  saw  a  little  old  brown  house,  close  down 
to  the  bank,  that  had  certainly  been  built  not  less  than  half  a 
century,  and  signified  to  the  pilot  that  he  must  have  seen  it 
before,  during  some  one  of  his  ten  thousand  passages  up  and 
down.  "No,"  said  the  pilot,  in  such  a  tone  and  with  such  a 
manner  that  he  left  no  doubt  of  the  correctness  of  his  alleira- 
tion — "of  course  the  house  has  stood  there  all  the  while,  but 
I  tell  you  that  I  have  never  happened  to  see  it  till  this  mo- 
ment." 'Did  the  writer  still  doubt  the  correctness  of  the 
pilot's  memory  ?  If  he  did  at  that  time,  he  has  ceased  to 
doubt,  in  the  light  of  added  experience.  For  behind  him,  as 
he  writes,  hangs  a  framed  copy  of  that  marvellous  etching 
from  Moritz  Retzsch,  the  "  Game  of  Life,"  in  which  the 
young  man  is  playing  at  chess  with  the  devil  for  his  own 
soul.  He  has  had  the  picture  in  possession  for  nearly  or 
quite  twenty  years,  and  made  it  a  habitual  study,  and  yet 
less  than  a  year  has  elapsed  since  he  one  day  found  a  spider 
crawling  over  the  edge  of  the  tomb-stone  on  which  the  com- 
batants have  set  their  chess-board.  Since  then,  the  spider 
has  been  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  objects  in  the  picture  ; 
and  as  the  suggestion  of  little  Brown  Eyes  cannot  be  received 
as  conclusive — that  the  spider  had  been  all  that  while  crawl- 
ing up  from  the  sculptures  on  the  side  of  the  tomb  below, 
and  only  made  his  appearance  at  that  time, — it  only  remains 
to  suppose  that  it  must  have  been  there  all  the  while,  but 
that  the  eye  had  only  then  recognized  that  feature  in  the  de- 
tail. 

So  much  for  the  discovery  of  things  long  hidden,  and  the 
accidental  or  providential  character  of  the  modes  employed  in 
their  revelation.  Enough,  in  addition,  on  the  events  of  that 
day,  to  say  that  after  a  time  the  young  girl  concluded  her 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  351 

f*  war-dance"  and  calmed  herself  sufficiently  to  fulfil  her 
duties.  Not  all  her  duties,  perhaps. — for  she  retained  that 
old  yellow  paper  in  her  own  possession,  when  she  carried  in 
the  remainder  and  added  them  to  the  heterogenous  collection 
in  the  drawer.  And  something  more  than  her  duties,  per- 
haps,— as  before  she  slept  that  nighty  she  wrote  and  forwarded 
a  letter  to  Burtnett  Ilaviland,  in  which  the  reader  would 
have  been  puzzled  to  trace  any  of  the  merriment  shown  in 
her  former  epistle. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

The  Fire  Zouaves  at  Shooter's  Hill — Colonel  Farnham 
— Camp  Life  and  Equestrianism  extraordinary — Major 
C.  as  John  Gilpin — Captain  Jack's  Company  at  Alex- 
andria— Whiskey,  Darkey  Sentinels,  Pugilism  and 
Dry  Straw — Captain  Bob's  Pocket-full — A  Word  more 
of  Burtnett  Hayiland. 

The  Fire  Zouaves  held  Shooter's  Hill,  two  miles  south- 
west of  Alexandria,  between  the  Fairfax  and  Leesburg  roads, 
and  commanding  views  of  both  through  the  few  scrubby 
trees  that  fringed  it,  while  the  towering  bulk  of  the  Fairfax 
Seminary  could  be  seen  a  few  miles  further  to  the  south- 
west, and  beyond  it  the  great  road  stretched  away  towards 
Fairfax  Court-House.  They  were  building  Fort  Ellsworth 
there  ;  and  there,  as  has  before  been  said,  occurred  most  of 
their  experiences  and  exploits  in  camp  life. 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Xoah  L.  Farnham,  so  suddenly  become 
Colonel  of  the  Regiment  by  the  death  of  Colonel  Ellsworth, 
did  not  go  mad  when  suddenly  left  in  the  streets  of  Alexan- 
dria with  that  horde  of  half-disciplined  and  impracticable 
men ;  and  afterwards,  when  the  same  unfortunate  officer 
was  lying  in  the  hospital,  after  Bull  Hun,  suffering  and  slowly 
dying  with  the  terrible  wound  in  his  head  received  in  that 


352  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

battle,  and  the  debility  arising  from  earlier  and  neglected  in- 
juries,—  he  made  his  preservation  of  reason  on  that  occasion 
the  test  of  his  general  power  to  retain  it,  in  an  exclamation 
not  easily  to  be  forgotten. 

"  They  tell  me  you  have  been  out  of  your  head,  Colonel," 
said  one  of  the  other  officers,  coming  in  to  see  him  as  he  lay 
writhing  on  his  pallet  of  suffering. 

"  Do  they  ?"  said  the  Colonel,  grimly.  "  They  lie,  then 
— that  is  all !  If  I  did  not  go  crazy  at  the  moment  when 
Ellsworth  left  me  in  the  streets  of  Alexandria,  with  that  lot 
of  fellows  and  no  idea  what  under  heaven  to  do  with  them — 
why,  there  is  not  pain  and  suffering  enough  in  the  world  to 
drive  me  crazy  :  you  may  bet  on  that  !" 

Colonel  Farnham,  known  among  his  familiars  as  "Pony," 
from  his  short  stature  and  compact  figure,  was  the  very  in- 
carnation of  a  soldier,  by  nature  ;  and  under  other  circum- 
stances than  those  in  which  he  chanced  to  be  placed,  he 
would  unquestionably  have  illustrated  the  service.  The 
little  man,  with  his  thin  face,  high  cheek-bones,  dark  hair 
and  eyes  and  poor  pretence  at  beard  in  a  thin  goatee,  had 
been  a  capital  gymnast  when  resident  in  the  great  city  and  a 
"  fire-laddie" ;  and  when  a  member  and  officer  of  the  Seventh, 
with  which  he  marched  away,  he  had  spent  many  of  his. hours 
in  the  bunk-room,  reading  military  bookstand  planning  oper- 
ations in  that  active  service  which  he  then  little  expected 
to  enter, — while  his  associates  were  finding  other  and  more 
congenial  employment.  It  is  just  possible  that,  placed  origi- 
nally in  command  of  the  Fire  Zouaves  and  given  time  to  dis- 
cipline them  before  they  were  thrown  into  service,  he  might 
really  have  made  the  general  dream  of  their  capabilities  a 
reality  and  left  a  proud  record  of  the  regiment  to  be  read  in 
the  future. 

But  this  is  mere  speculation.  Enough  to  know  that  if  any 
man  ever  had  his  "  hands  full"  of  any  body  of  men,  the  new 
Colonel  was  placed  in  that  position  immediately  after  the  fall 
of  Ellsworth.  And  no  man  who  was  a  member  of  the  com- 
mand will  be  likely  to  forget  the  two  days  in  Alexandria 
following  that  event,  with  the  body  of  the  Zouaves  drunk  and 
unmanageable,  the  town  threatened  with  fire  in  an  hundred 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  353 

places  from  their  revtengeftil  hands,  theft  frequent  and  rapine 
!iot  beyond  my  rational  fear.  All  day  and  all  nigfci,  on  both 
those  days,  the  fvw  remaining  true  to  discipline,  with  the 
Michigan  troops,  were  busied  in  hunting  out  the  skulkers 
and  returning-  them  to  their  commands  ;  and  when  on  the 
Monday  following  the  death  of  Ellsworth  the  regiment 
finally  left  their  quarters  at  the  Railroad  Depot  and  marched 
to  take  position  at  Shooter's  Hill,  it  is  a  matter  of  question 
whether  the  people  of  the  old  "  secesh"  town,  no  longer 
afraid  of  their  very  lives,  or  the  Colonel,  with  his  command 
once  more  gathered  into  something  approaching  discipline, 
felt  the  more  grateful  for  the  order  dictating  the  movement. 

One  company,  that  of  Captain  Jack,  with  Burtnett  Havi- 
land  yet  in  the  ranks,  found  different  employment  from  the 
rest  of  the  regiment,  in  guarding  the  government  warehouses 
skirting  the  river  at  Alexandria,  a  duty  for  which  their  better 
discipline  and  greater  steadiness  made  them  available.  With 
them  we  shall  have  occasion  to  deal  presently:  our  imme- 
diate view  is  to  be  taken  of  the  body  of  the  regiment  and  the 
builders  of  Fort  Ellsworth. 

They  were  a  merry  body  of  fellows,  beyond  a  question,  and 
when  away  from  temptation  they  behaved  like  men  and 
soldiers.  Fort  Ellsworth  sprang  up  quite  as  rapidly,  in 
comparison,  under  their  active  hands  and  ready  spades,  as 
the  extensive  lines  of  fortifications  opposite  Washington  were 
growing  under  those  of  the  Sixty-ninth  and  the  other  regi- 
ments of  New  York  State  Militia.  They  were  happy,  con- 
tented, even  jolly.  If  they  were  ill-fed,  they  fared  no  worse 
in  that  particular  than  any  other  regiment  in  the  service  ; 
and  if  the  soldiers  of  some  of  the  regiments  were  damaged  in 
comfort  and  actually  suffering  in  health  from  the  miserable 
quality  of  the  shoddy  clothing  and  blankets  furnished  them, 
the  Zouaves  had  not  the  same  cause  of  complaint.  In  fact, 
before  most  of  the  regiments  had  any  hope  of  seeing 
'  Quartermaster  with  requisitions  for  new  clothing,  they 
had  shed  their  shabby  gray  and  appeared  in  the  blue  Zouave 
pants  and  jacket,  with  red  shirt,  in  which  (or  a  part  of 
which)  they  afterwards  went  into  their  first  and  last  battle. 
The  (ire-bovs  were  fir*  ify  at  Shooter's  Hill  as  they 

• 


854  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

had  been  in  their  native  city.  Xot  one  but  expected  to  return, 
some  day.  and  conned  himself  with  his  favorite  machine; 
not  one  but  could  and  would  tell  the  same  stories  of  the 
night  when  the  old  wall  on  Broadway  fell  over  and  buried 
an  engineer  and  half  of  Fifteen's  fellows,  or  the  time  when 
Forty-eight  got  fast  in  a  snow-bank,  at  the  corner  of  Broome 
and  Mercer,  and  let  Forty-nine  pass  her. — that  they  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  telling  before  war  came  upon  the  land.  Not 
pne  but  could  "  bet  his  life"  when  occasion  required,  on  the 
honor  of  a  friend  or  the  capacity  of  an  engine  ;  and  scarcely 
one  but  was  both  ready  and  willing  to  give  the  most  trusty 
of  his  comrades  what  he  graphically  designated  as  a  "  mash 
in  the  jaw"  when  he  "came  foo-foo-ing  around"'  with  some 
story  that  did  not  please.  The  musket  was  only  a  temporary 
substitute  for  the  trumpet,  the  brake  and  the  spanner;  and 
not  even  Farnham  could  make  the  boys  soldiers  instead  of 
firemen. 

One  ambition  spread  a  little  among  the  officers,  meanwhile 
— that  was  peculiarly  soldierly.  That  was  the  desire  to  lenni 
to  ri'le.  It  is  well  known  that  not  one  man  in  ten,  at  the 
North,  is  sufficiently  at  home  in  the  saddle  to  be  able  to  make 
a  good  dragoon  ;  and  not  one  in  fifty  is  capable  of  riding  with 
sufficient  grace  to  escape  unpleasant  attention  among  profes- 
sional riders.  Of  the  Fire  Zouaves,  in  gross,  perhaps  the 
scale  of  ecmestrian  power  was  almost  as  low  as  it  would 
have  been  found  among  the  same  number  of  old  salts  who  had 
spent  half  their  lives  at  sea.  But  the  Virginians  rode  well 
as  well  as  rode  capital  horses — that  every  man  in  the  regi- 
ment could  see.  whether  looking  at  them  as  they  casually 
passed,  or  through  the  spectacles  of  an  enemy.  To  the  rank 
and  file,  this  made  very  little  difference  ;  but  some  of  the 
officers  were  more  ambitious.  Suppose  some  of  the  line 
should  rise  to  the  dignity  of  field  officers  or  be  placed  upon 
the  staff'! — and  suppose  some  of  the  field  should  have  occa- 
sion to  be  almost  constantly  in  the  saddle  !  Such  things 
were  not  inevitable,  of  course,  but  they  were  quite  as  likely  as 
that  the  female  daughter  of  the  house  of  Toodle  should  marry 
a  man  with  the  name  of  Thompson.  Therefore — said  both 
fiel  1   and  line  officers — we   will   perfect   ourselves   in    riding, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  855 

while  there  is  an  opportunity.  Thoy  did  so,  to  a  great  ex- 
tent ;  and  it  is  to  be  believed  that  no  spot  on  the  earth's 
surface  ever  saw  such  specimens  of  equitation  as  some  of  the 
Virginia  roads  surrounding  the  ramp,  when  leisure  allowed 
and  horses  were  supplied  by  the  "  accident"  of  a  "  secesh1' 
Virginian  tumbling  olf  his  steed  and  forgetting  to  get  up  and 
mount  him  again  ! 

Captain  ,  of    Company .,  could   tell   us   a   good 

story,  if  he  only  would,  how  he  longed,  nay,  yearned  for  a 
horse  of  splendid  proportions  and  gallant  mettle,  with  the 
which  he  would  at  once  perfect  his  equestrian  education  and 
astonish  t he  whole  camp  with  the  knightly  grace  and  firmness 
of  seat  which  might  have  belonged  to  one  of  the  old  Paladins 
i — how  one  day  a  steed,  coal  black  and  glossy,  from  which  his 
rebel  owner  had  just  accidentally  tumbled  off,  was  brought  in 
to  him  and  tendered  for  his  coveted  exercise — how  the  horse 
Deigned,  curveted,  and  did  many  other  acts  and  things  calcu- 
lated to  allure  him  to  a,  seat  in  the  saddle — how  his  orderly, 
Just  before  he  essayed  to  mount,  tendered  him  a  pair  of 
spurs,  of  the  which  he  felt  a  trifle  shy,  but  the  which  he  did  not 
dare  refuse,  owing  to  the  many  who  stood  around  to  witness 
the  first  mounting  of  the  neophyte — how  the  orderly  then 
and  thereupon  buckled  on  the  spurs  aforesaid,  of  which  the 
rowels  seemed  to  the  expectant  rider  of  about  a  foot  in  length 
each — how  he  mounted,  with  the  assistance  of  the  orderly  at 
the  horse's  head — how  the  horse  playfully  shied  the  moment 
after,  throwing  him  violently  to  one  side,  upon  which  one  of 
the  spur  rowels  entered  the  horse  aforesaid  about  twelve 
inches — how  he  dismounted  over  the  horse's  head,  the  next 
instant,  somewhat  in  a  confused  condition,  without  any 
assistance  from  the  orderly  whatever — how  the  horse  turned 
around  and  nosed  him.  when  he  lay  half  stunned  and  alto- 
gether discomfited  upon  the  ground,  with  motions  and  ges- 
tures which  said  quite  as  plainly  as  words:  "  Poor  devil! 
What  did  you  fall  off  for?'' — and  how  he  did  not  ride  any 
more,  at  that  juncture,  on  Virginian  horses  and  with  spurs. 

But  Captain  will  not   tell   the   story,  and   he  must  even 

se  content   with   its  relation,  the  name  suppressed,   by  one 


356  THE      PAYS      OF      SITOPPY. 

who  coulrl  have  tumbled  off,  under  like*  circumstance?,  a  little 
more  heavily  than  himself. 

Major  C (there  was  only  one  Major  in   the   regiment, 

and    so   any  attempt   to    disguise    his    personality  mu- 
futile)  had  a  more  extensive  experience,  and  in  some  si 
it   may    be    said  a  more  unpleasant  one.     To  say  that  the 
Major  rode  very  badly  might  be  a  libel :  to  say  that  he  rode 
very  well  would  be  a  still  more  culpable  perversion  of  truth. 
He  practised  much,  and  certainly  improved,  though    hi 
not  achieve  that  thickening  of  the  cuticle  which  could  render 
him,  after  a  few  miles'  ride,  free  from  sensations  best  known 
to  unpractised  riders  who  go  up  from  the  Crawford  House  to 
the  top  of  Mount  Washington  and  back  again  the  same  day. 
Of  the   epidermis  of    such    people,   under  peculiarly  unfor- 
tunate circumstances  it  may  be  said  that  it  is  "  neither  here  nor 
there."     Of  that  of  the  Major,  after  his  equestrian  practice 
of    a  particular  day,  very   nearly    the  same  might   be    said 
without  exaggeration. 

Not  many  days  after  the  occupation  of  Shooter's  Hill  and 
the  commencement  of  the  fortification  there,  a  detachment  of 
two  companies  was  thrown  out  to  Cloud's  Mills,  on  the  Fair- 
fax Road,  with  pickets  lying  a  mile  beyond.  This  brought 
the  Zouaves  into  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  rebels,  so  that 
firing  between  the  pickets  began  to  be  prevalent,  and  the  ut- 
most vigilance  became  necessary.  One  scalding  day  in  June, 
when  walking  was  a  labor  and  riding  a  torture,  the  Major 
rode  out  to  Cloud's  Mills,  and  afterwards  to  the  full  extent  of 
the  Federal  lines,  to  look  after  the  vigilance  and  the  welfare 
of  the  pickets.  He  was  a  little  plethoric  that  day.  and  sensa- 
tion seemed  to  ooze  out  to  the  skin  very  easily.  Though  not 
by  any  means  angry  or  indignant,  it  may  be  said  that  he 
"  chafed,"  as  the  caged  lion  is  reputed  to  do,  though  perhaps 
not  in  the  same  sense.  By  the  time  he  had  ridden  to  the 
station  of  the  last  picket,  the  Major  might  have  said,  without 
exaggeration,  that  he  had  ridden  quite  enough  for  that  day; 
and  a  close  Observe*  would  have  >een  that  he  scarcelj 
so  erect  in  the  saddle  as  ht  had  done  early  in  the  morning. 
In  fact,  from  "  causes  beyond  his  own  control,"  he  leaned 
forward  a  little,  something  after  the  manner  of  that  estima- 


THE.      PAYS      OF      SHODDY.  857 

ble  gentleman  and  model  historian  but  sad  innovator  on  the 
science  of  equitation,  who  bo  often  sets  gratis  riding-lessons  in 
the  Central  Park. 

Riding  away  from  the  most  distant  of  the  pickets,  with 
pleasant  visions  of  the  relief  he  should  embrace  when  once 
more  arrived  at  Fort  Ellsworth,  the  Major  took  what  he  con- 
ceived to  be  a  "short  cut"  through  the  woods  and  away  from 
the  main  road,  gave  his  horse  another,  and  galloped  for- 
ward. His  seat  in  the  saddle  became  less  endurable  and  the 
mo,  ion  of  the  horse  more  intolerable  ;  but  was  he  not  getting 
back  to  camp  and  to  repose  ?  When  he  had  galloped  so  far 
that  he  fancied  he  should,  again  have  struck  the  main  road, 
and  yet  without  being  able  to  recognize  any  landmark — he 
took  the  liberty  of  inquiring  of  one  of  the  estimable  residents 
of  the  soil,  wrhom  he  met,  wrhether  he  was  on  the  right  road 
for  Shooter's  Hill.  He  was  answered  in  the  affirmative,  by 
that  reliable  person,"  so  decidedly  that  he  felt  almost  ashamed 
to  have  asked  the  question  and  galloped  on  yet  more  briskly 
than  before.  Mile  upon  mile,  it  seemed  to  the  tortured  Major, 
and  the  day  growing  hotter  and  hotter,  with  all  the  other 
circumstances  aggravated,  that  have  before  been  hinted  at — ■ 
and  still  no  appearance  of  Fort  EllswTorth. 

Still  riding  ahead,  the  Major  proved  that  he  possessed  the 
material  for  a  commander,  by  taking  a  view  of  the  position. 
Something  wras  wrong,  unquestionably — but  what?  A  little 
astronomical  knowledge  conjoined  with  the  suspicious  cir- 
cumstances, gave  him  the  clue.  The  sun  was  on  his  right 
insi ead  of  his  left :  he  was  going  the  wrong  way.  Dimly 
the  fact  began  to  reveal  itself — he  had  lost  his  way  and  the 
estimable  citizen  had  been  lying  ! — he  was  some  miles  with- 
in the  enemy's  lines,  and  riding  rapidly  into  the  rebel  strong- 
hold of  Fairfax  Court  House  ! 

"  About  ship  !"  sings  out  the  Captain  when  he  discovers 
that  his  vessel  has  been  swayed  out  of  her  course  by  false 
currents  and  is  just  going  head  on  to  some  rock  that  must 
shiver  her  to  atoms.  The  Major  did  not  shout  to  his  helms- 
man, being  the  helmsman  himself;  but  he  swayed  hard  on 
the  near  rein,  which  the  Captain  before  mentioned  would 
have  designated  as  the  "port  tiller  rope,"  and   brought  his 


358  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

equestrian  vessel  about  as  rapidly  as  possible.  Just  at  that 
moment  he  found  an  additional  incentive  for  wheeling  sud- 
denly, for  over  the  crest  of  a  hill  immediately  ahead  dashed 
three  rebel  horsemen,  who  had  caught  .sight  of  him  and  who 
rode  as  if  there  was  no  such  thing  in  the  world  as  want  of 
sympathy  between  the  horse  and  his  rider. 

Then  followed  one  of  those  events  which  the  writer  feels 
himself  entirely  inadequate  to  describe.  The  Major  \vu.~  a 
brave  man — none  braver  in  the  Federal  army  then  or  after- 
ward. Maily  a  man,  before  that  time,  had  seen  him  under 
circumstances  quite  as  trying  to  the  nerves  and  quite  as  peril- 
ous to  life  as  the  shock  of  any  battle  conflict.  Some  of  the 
same  persons  afterwards  saw  him  riding  among  the  bullets 
on  Manasses,  swearing  a  little,  but  apparently  no  more  ex- 
cited by  bodily  fear  than  if  he  had  been  ordering  up  another 
engine  to  a  big  fire  or  making  an  insurance  calculation.  And 
yet  the  Major,  in  this  instance,  ran  away — ignominiously  ran 
away  !  He  had  his  pistols,  but  they  were  only  twTo  against 
six — fearful  odds  for  the  weaker  party.  His  four  horse's- 
legs,  so  far  as  they  could  go,  were  just  as  good  as  twelve — 
therefore — "  g'lang  !" 

There  are  several  rides  in  history,  mythology  and  romance, 
that  might  be  introduced  profitably,  here,  except  that  none 
of  them  rise  equal  to  the  parallel.  How  the  old  Greek  heroes 
of  the  mythological  period  swept  down  to  the  hunt  of  the 
Calvdonian  Boar — how  the  men  of  the  Scottish  border  dashed 
through  Liddesdale  after  the  rievers  of  their  cattle  fleeing 
away  to  their  mountain  fastnesses — how  the  Wild  Huntsman 
of  the  German  forests  rushed  by  with  horn  and  hound,  on  un- 
holy nights  when  all  the  demons  of  the  air  were  unloosed — • 
nay,  how  John  Gilpin  rode  on  that  fateful  day  when  he  dined 
everywhere  and  nowhere, — all  these  might  be  brought  in,  with 
great  advantage  to  the  general  interests  of  the  literature  of 
many  lands,  but  they  would  only  furnish  a  dim  shadow  of  the 
stern  reality  of  that  flight  and  that  pursuit.  Away  with  you, 
up  hill  and  down  hill,  horses  that  bear  the  rebel  cavalrymen, 
for  nobler  prey  will  not  be  hunted  during  all  the  war  !  Let 
out  another  link,  gallant  roan  that  bears  the  Major,  for  he 
will  never  need  your  best  speed  more  imminently  than  he 


THE      DAYS      OF      S1IODDY.  359 

Deeds  it  at  the  present  juncture  !  Let  the  scrubby  trees  of  the 
Fairfax  Road  ami  the  shabby  worm-fences  all  sweep  by  like 
the  sudden  shift  of  a  panorama  or  the  flash  from  railroad-car 
windows  !     Away  !  away  ! — after  a  life,  and  to  save  one  ! 

But  if  language  fails  to  describe  that  flight  and  that  pur- 
suit, what  shall  be  said  of  the  sufferings  of  the  flying  Major, 
before  worn  out  with  equitation,  and  now  only  able  to  keep 
his  -addle  from  the  grimest  of  all  necessities.  Let  the 
reader  make  no  attempt  to  roll  with  him,  or  writhe,  or  bend 
forward,  or  lean  back,  or  change  from  one  dreadful  position 
to  a  worse,  as  every  leap  brings  a  new  blister  to  the  skin  and 
every  spring  half  tears  out  another  nerve  or  half  dislocates 
another  bone !  There  is  terrible  heat  pouring  down  from  the 
sky,  but  what  is  it  to  that  apparently  radiating  up  from  the 
earth  ?  Saint  Lawrence  was  broiled  on  a  gridiron  ;  but  the 
gridiron,  if  we  are  correctly  informed,  remained  stationary 
and  did  not  gallop.  Saint  Herminigildus  was  flayed  alive 
before  being  cut  in  pieces;  but  he  was  at  least  allowed  (so 
far  as  any  volition  of  his  tormentors  was  concerned)  to  re- 
main quiet  during  the  unpleasant  operation.  The  flying 
Major  was  a  worse  victim  than  either  of  these  :  he  was  both 
flayed  and  roasted  at  a  speed  of  twenty-five  miles  the  hour. 

The  four  legs  were  triumphant  over  the  twelve,  after  all 
the  vengeance  of  the  fiends  had  been  exhausted  on  the  unfor- 
tunate horseman.  It  seemed  an  age  and.  a  flight  of  fifty 
leagues  before  the  pickets  beyond  Cloud's  Mills  came  in 
sight,  but  they  did  come  in  sight  at  last,  and  a  shot  or  two 
sent  the  rebel  pursuers  to  the  right  about.  The  Major  rode 
in  under  the  sheltering  fire.  He  was  saved — what  there  was 
left  of  him  !  Draw  the  curtain.  There  is  no  cold  cream  in 
the  army  commissariat,  though  rest  and  cold  water  applica- 
tions may  do  something.  The  Major  will  ride  again,  and 
ride  better  than  ever,  some  day — just  as  the  pedestrian  will 
eventually  walk  further  and  with  less  suffering,  on  the  heel 
once  blistered  to  torture  ! 

These  are  only  glimpses  of  the  camp-life  at  Fort  Ellsworth, 
but  they  must  suffice.  So  wore  on  June  and  July  with  the 
main  body  of  the  Fire  Zouave  regiment,  while  the  war-cloud 
was  gathering  darker  and  darker  over  all  Virginia,  rebel  fort- 


360  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

ideation  answering  to  fortification  built  by  Federal  hands, 
and  the  thunder  muttering  before  that  great  conflict  which 
was  to  drench  the  soil  of  Fairfax  with  the  blood  of  so  many 

who  had  but  lately  been  brothers. 

The  main  body  of  the  regiment — we  have  said.  Let  it  be 
remembered  that  one  company,  that  of  Captain  Jack,  held 
Alexandria  and  guarded  the  munitions  of  war  and  pro- 
visions stored  in  the  warehouses  on  the  wharves.  It  may 
as  well  be  remembered  here,  for  it  is  certain  that  the  Zouaves 
ooter'a  Hill  did  not  forget  the  fact,  and  that  when  they 
found  opportunity  to  express  themselves  they  did  so  some- 
thing in  the  manner  following  : — 

"  Eh — yah  !     You  fellows  of  Company are  nothing  but 

a  set  of  foo-foos  !  Soft  bread  and  houses  to  sleep  in,  for  you, 
while  the  rest  of  us  have  nothing  softer  than  hard  tack  and 
sleep  in  the  mud  !     Eh — yah  !  much  good  you  do  !" 

Captain  Jack  had  certainly  a  company  somewhat  better 
disciplined  than  the  balance  of  the  regiment,  and  he  cer- 
tainly manifested  much  better  talent  in  managing  them  than 
most  of  the  others  (though  the  other  Captains,  and  their 
subalterns,  no  doubt  did  wonders  under  the  circumstances 
and  with  their  material).  But  if  it  should  be  said  that  the 
discipline  of  even  Captain  Jack's  Company  was  much 
superior  to  that  of  the  regular  service,  there  is  some  fear  that 
the  statement  might  smack  of  exaggeration.  In  the  last 
chapter  casually  came  out  one  of  the  occurrences  in  which  some 
of  the  company  figured — that  of  the  women  in  the  old  ware- 
house and  the  Zouave  creeping  in  at  the  window,  in  which 
the  good  name  of  Burtnett  Haviland  was  so  sadly  made  to 
suffer  at  home.  Let  us  glance  at  a  few  more  of  the  salient 
points  of  guard-life  at  Alexandria. 

If  there  was  any  commodity,  liquid  or  solid,  difficult  to 
keep  intact  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Zouaves,  it  was 
whiskey.  Perhaps  the  same  difficulty  may  sometimes  have 
existed  in  the  vicinity  of  other  Zouaves,  aud  even  of  those 
soldiers  who  never  wyore  baggy  trousers — who  knows?  At 
all  events,  nearly  every  time  that  Captain  Jack  left  his 
quarters,  located  in  an  old  dwelling  house  not  far  from  the 
wharves,   when   he   returned  the  stock  on  hand  would  be 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  361 

materially  reduced  and  yet  no  culprit  discovered.  Pete,  the 
escaped  contraband  who  acted  as  body-serrant,  was  not 
drunk  on  those  occasions,  so  he  could  not  be  the  depredator: 
yet  how  could  the  favorite  compound  be  abstracted  without 
Pete's  knowledge  ? 

(Joing  out  to  the  regimental  quarters  one  day,  Captain 
Jack  held  a  conference  with  that  indispensable  darkey  before 
leaving;,  and  calmly  informed  him  that  the  stealing  of  whiskey 
had  now  gone  far  enough,  and  that  if  on  his  return  he  dis- 
covered that  any  further  depredations  had  taken  place,  he, 
Pete,  would  be  incontinently  tied  up  and  more  soundly 
flogged  than  he  had  been  during  all  his  days  of  "'involun- 
tary servitude."  The  negro  muttered  something  about: 
"  Try  to  keep  urn,  Masser  Captin  !"  and  with  that  assurance 
the  officer  departed.  Coming  back  to  the  house  after  dusk, 
and  well  knowing  that  the  sentries,  in  obedience  to  orders, 
had  left  the  house  to  itself  and  kept  their  posts  nearer  the 
river,  the  Captain  was  hailed  by  a  threatening  voice  from 
the  dark  quadrangle,  as  he  approached  the  house  : 

"Who  come  dar  ?     Keep  off,  I  tell  you,  or  I  shoot  !" 

No  answer  to  the  challenge,  and  the  Captain  approached 
still  closer.  This  time  it  came  still  louder  and  more 
hurriedly,  and  with  evident  fright  in  the  voice. 

"  Keep  off  dar,  I  tell  you  !  Keep  off,  or  I  shoot !  Can't 
come  foolin'  round  dis  nigger  no  more  !"  Then  with  some- 
thing approaching  a  yell,  as  the  object  of  its  terror  ap- 
proached still  nearer,  the  voice  repeated:  "  Keep  off,  I  tell 
you,  or  dis  nigger  shoot !     Keep  away,  now  mind  !" 

••  Why,  who  the  deuce  are  you,  and  what  are  you  doing 
Here?"  spoke  the  Captain  for  the  first  time,  as  through  the 
dusk  he  descried  the  negro,  somewhat  darker  than  the 
dusk  itself,  standing  sentry  before  the  door  with  one  of  the 
condemned  muskets,  that  he  knew  to  be  unloaded,  from  the 
old  storehouse,  the  musket  shaking  and  the  poor  darkey's 
knees  trembling  still  worse,  with  terror. 

11  Oh,  is  dat  you,  Masser  Captin  !"  said  the  negro,  dropping 
Lis  musket  with  a  very  howl  of  joy.  "  Oh,  lord,  Pse  so 
glad  !  Tot  it  was  some  o*  dem  fellers  again  ;  and  den  I  lose 
de  whiskey,  sure,  and  get  licked  into  de  bargain  1" 


6&I  THE       DAYS      OF      SHuDDY. 

Under  the  double  impulse  of  his  pastfright  and  big  present 
joy,  poor  Pete  at  last  explained   the  secret  of  the  whiskey 

disappearances.  The  moment  they  found  the  Captain  had 
gone  away  to  any  distance,  some  of  the  Zouaves  were  in 
the  habit  of  coming  to  the  house,  tying  up  the  poor  negro 
and  then  helping  themselves  to  the  liquoi,  Untying  him  when 
they  left,  but  effectually  sealing  his  mouth  by  the  threat  1  hat 
if  he  dared  to  tell  what  had  become  of  it  they  would  "flog 
him  within  an  inch  of  his  life.'"  Between  such  a  double  nre 
had  the  victim  been  placed  ;  though  it  is  scarcely  nece 
to  say  that  after  his  valorous  attempt  to  defend  his  own  skin 
and  the  Captain's  whiskey  by  keeping  guard  in  the  dark 
with  an  unloaded  musket,  he  was  not  again  allowed  to  be 
placed  in  the  same  position. 

Another  trouble,  imminent  with  the  commandant,  was  the 
impossibility  of  teaching  the  men  that  they  were  soldier*  and 
nothing  else — that  they  were  not  now  firemen  and  gymnasts. 
This  trouble  has  been  before  alluded  to,  but  it  had  a  ludicrous 
illustration  in  a  single  instance.  There  was  an  alarm,  one 
day,  down  on  one  of  the  wharves  just  below  the  storehouses; 
and  going  down  to  see  what  had  occurred,  the  officers  found 
that  the  "P.  R,"  had  suddenly  made  its  appearance  in  the 
antique  city,  seriously  to  the  detriment  of  the  armed  service. 
Two  fellows  were  in  a  "  rough-and-tumble*'  clench  on  the 
pier,  pounding  each  other  merrily.  One  seemed  to  have 
been  a  Zouave  and  a  sentry,  at  no  distant  period,  from 
certain  cast-off  appurtenances  lying  on  the  dock ;  and 
the  other  appeared  to  be  a  -gentleman  of  bivalvular  ante- 
cedents, from  one  of  the  oyster-boats  in  the  river.  Rigid 
inquiry  established  the  fact  that  the  little  physical  discus- 
sion had  originated  in  this  wise  : 

Occupant  of  the  oyster-boat  approached  the  wharf  at  a 
point  where  the  regulations  strictly  forbade  any  landing  to 
be  allowed.  Zouave,  musket  on  shoulder,  hailed  him  with  : 
"Look  a  here!  Jest  you  keep  off,  will  you?  See  this 
thing  V  tapping  his  musket.  "  This  shoots — this  does  !  So 
jest  keep  off!"  "Bah!  you're  a  smart  ey  !,?  ejaculated  the 
gentleman  in  the  oyster-boat.  "  Very  big,  you  are,  because 
you  have  a  musket  and  1  haven't  any  !     Jest  put  down  that 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  363 

musket,  and    I'll ."     He   needed   to  proceed  no  further 

with  the  challenge.     The  gallant  member  of  Two-hundred* 

and-til'iy-seven  Host  was  not  in  the  habit  of  backing-  out 
from  what  he  considered  a  "  squaw  fight.?'  Down  went  his 
musket  and  otf  went  all  his  other  warlike  appurte-ttance**. 
The  gentleman  from  the  oyster-boat  landed  without  hin- 
drance, and  the  little  exercise  in  the  "  P.  R."  commenced, 
afterwards  kept  up  with  such  spirit  on  the  part  of  the  boatman 
that  when  the  officers  arrived  the  Zouave  was  under  and 
considerably  damaged.  The  ex-sentry  did  not  understand 
then,  and  probably  (if  he  is  alive)  does  not  understand  to 
this  day,  why  be  should  have  been  arrested  and  sent  to  the 
guard-house  for  his  "  ex-sentri-city." 

Still  another  trouble,  and  one  more  difficult  to  manage  than 
either  of  the  others,  was  that  propensity  for  variety  mani- 
fested by  the  Zouaves  in  common  with  all  other  bodies  of 
armed  men  since  the  time  when  Xerxes  found  a  few  hundred 
thousands  of  his  million  going  back  to  Persia  without  formal 
furloughs — a  propensity  cruelly  designated  by  the  moderns 
as  desertion.  Probably  not  many  of  the  boys  wished  to 
escape  from  the  service,  but  they  did  want  to  get  away  to 
Washington  or  elsewhere  and  enjoy  a  few  days  of  liberty  and 
jollity  not  attainable  within  sound  of  their  drum-beat.  And 
they  did  it.  Especially  after  the  cars  began  to  run  north- 
ward again  on  the  Leesburg  road,  were  there  vacancies  con- 
tinually occurring  in  the  ranks.  Evidently  they  left  with  the 
aid  of  the  cars,  but  no  one  could  ascertain  how,  as  the  trains 
were  examined  inside  and  outside  before  starting.  One  day, 
however,  the  station-master  came  to  Captain  Jack  and  made 
a  report.  He  had  discovered  the  modus  operandi.  The  fel- 
lows were  in  the  habit  of  stowing  themselves  away  under  the 
cars,  on  the  trucks,  until  some  stoppage  might  occur  after 
leaving  the  town,  when  they  would  drop  off  quietly  and  seek 
their  "fresh  fields  and  pastures  new." 

The  station-master  informed  Captain  Jack  that  there  were 
at  that  moment  three  of  his  men  stowed  away  under  the  cars 
of  the  train  about  to  start,  and  suggested  that  they  had  better 
be  removed.     Captain  Jack  thought  a  moment,  and  adopted  a 


36-i  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

peculiar  plan  for  their  removal.  He  ordered  a  load  of  straw 
to  be  scattered  along  the  track  a  few  hundred  yards  ahead, 
where  the  "skedaddlers"  could  not  be  aware  of  the  operation 
— and  that  straw  set  on  fire.  Then  he  ordered  the  engineer 
to  go  ahead  and  stop  his  train  immediately  over  the  burning 
straw.  Bees  have  been  known  to  come  out  of  their  trees, 
and  rats  from  their  holes,  from  the  employment  of  similar 
processes  ;  and  once  upon  a  time,  in  Algeria,  was  it  not  Mar- 
shal Magnan  who  proved  that  there  is  nothing  in  a  name  by 
adopting  that  any  thing  but  magnan-imous  plan  of  smoking 
out  the  Arabs  from  their  caves  or  letting  them  stay  in  and  be 
smothered  ?  At  all  events,  three  Zouaves  came  out  from 
under  the  Leesburg  train,  at  that  particular  juncture,  quite  as 
rapidly  as  they  had  ever  run  to  a  fire  ;  and  they  did  not  again 
attempt  that  mode  of  escape  without  being  fully  aware  how 
much  dry  straw  there  might  be  in  the  neighborhood. 

One  more  reminiscence  of  life  in  Alexandria,  and  this  tells 
not  against  the  soldiers,  but  the  officers — and,  what  is  more, 
against  the  officers  of  the  regular  service. 

An  United  States  steamer  lay  off  the  town  when  Ellsworth 
went  down  with  his  Zouaves,  and  the  same  vessel  kept  guard 
there  during  all  their  sojourn.     The  officers  were  jolly  fellows ; 

Captain  Jack  was  a  jolly  fellow ;  and  Captain  Bob  S , 

of  the  regular  army,  was  quite  as  jolly  as  either.  The  two 
officers  had  semi-occasional  invitations  to  visit  and  dine  on 
board  the  steamer,  especially  when  they  had  themselves  sent 
off  a  few  boxes  of  claret  or  baskets  of  champagne  that  had 
come  into  their  own  possession.  One  day  claret  was  the 
medium,  and  the  two  officers  lingered  somewhat  long  in  the 
ward-room,  so  that  it  was  dark  when  the  boat's-crew  was 
called  away  to  convey  the  guests  to  the  shore.  When  they 
landed,  Captain  Jack  had  just  brains  enough  left  to  be  aware 
that  the  jolly  tars  should  have  some  compensation  for  their 
row,  and  he  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  took  out  the 
handful  of  silver  change  to  be  found  there,  and  poured  it  into 
the  palm  of  the  coxswain.  Captain  Bob,  who  was  "  droopy," 
roused  at  this,  with  a  :  "  See  here — bo-o-oys  ! — there's  a  liz- 
zie ni-o-o-re  for  ye !"  thrust  his  hand  into  his  pocket  and 


TTTE      DAY?      OF      S  IT  0  P  D  Y.  365 

passed  over  his  handful ;  whereupon  the  boat's-crew,  With 
Dimiv  pulls  of  the  top-knot,  rowed  away,  and  the  two  officers 
separated  for  their  respective  quarters. 

The  next  morning  Captain  Jack,  very  early,  Was  favored 
with  a  visit  from  Captain  Bob.  Captain  Jack  was  cool,  se- 
rene and  happy  :  Captain  Bob  seemed  puzzled  and  discom- 
fited. "  Captain  Jack,  did  I  lend  yon  any  money  last  nignl  ?" 
"  Not  a  cop  !"'  "  Did  I  lend  anybody  any,  that  you  saw  \V 
"  \o  !"  "  Did  you  see  me  use  any  money  at  all,  anywlu ire  Vf 
"  Yes — I  saw  you  give  a  handful  of  money,  out  of  your 
trousers  pocket,  to  the  sailors  who  brought  us  ashore, — just 
after  I  had  given  them  a  handful  myself."  "Thunder  and 
lightning  !"  said  Captain  Bob — "  then  I  have  just  given  them 
a  twenty  dollar  gold  piece,  two  tens,  a  few  gold  dollars  and  a 
Ijt  of  silver — just  every  dollar  I  had  in  my  possession  !" 
'  Phew  !"  whistled  Captain  Jack.  "  Oh,  that  won't  do,  you 
know  P  said  Captain  Bob — "  I  must  go  off  and  see  about 
it  ! — can't  be  stripped  in  that  manner  !"  "  Think  I  wouldn't, 
if  I  were  yon,"  Baid  Captain  Jack.  "And  why  in  thunder 
not  fn  added  Captain  Bob.  "  Because  they  mi'/ht  take 
a  fancy  to  say  that  you  must  have  been  drunk.1'  sug- 
gested Captain  Jack.  "  So  they  might — I  think  I  will  let  it 
slide  I"  concluded  Captain  Bob.  And  he  did  so.  The  boat/s- 
crew must  have  realized  somewhere  between  fifty  and  sixty 
dollars  of  Captain  Bob's  money  by  that  pull  of  a  few  minutes 
— probably  the  best  pay  of  the  kind  on  record  ;  and  yet  that 
amount  might  have  been  worse  spent,  in  any  one  of  a  dozen 
different  modes  that  will  suggest  themselves  to  the  imagina- 
tive mind. 

And  yet  one  more  incident,  which  must  be  preserved  here, 
lest  the  coming  American  Scott  and  the  coming  American 
Macaulay  may  both  chance  to  miss  it  in  making  up  their  act- 
ual and  imaginative  records  of  the  war.  Let  the  Macaulay 
dig  out  for  himself  the  particulars  of  those  melancholy  re- 
involving  the  hanging  of  a  member  of  one  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania regiments  at  Fort  Ellsworth,  for  the  shooting  of  a 
woman, — and  that  sad  spectacle,  when  the  first  dead  and 
wounded  of  the  war  came  in  from  General  Sehenek's  terrible 
mishap  at  Vienna,  with  the  secession  men,  women  and  chil- 


TTTE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

$ren  gathering  around  the  cars  at  the  Leesburg  depot  at  Al- 
exandria, as  they  were  disembarked,  reviling  the  dead,  taunt- 
ins:  the  living  wounded,  and  showing  the  most  fiendish  joy 
at  the  disaster,  till  the  Zouaves  and  their  Michigan  comrades' 
could  stand  the  insults  no  longer  and  charged  bayonets  upon1 
the  pack  of  wolves  that  then  turned  to  be  sheep  of  a  very 
timid  order.  Let  the  historian  dig  out  these  for  himself:  we 
have  to  do,  just  now,  only  with  one  more  grand  provocative 
to  merriment. 

Concealed  arms  were  all  the  while  amongthe  bugbears  that 
haunted  the  Union  soldiers  during  the  early  campaigns  in 
Virginia.  Swords,  muskets  and  pistols  could  be  fotind  hid- 
den almost  everywhere  by  the  rebels,  above  ground  and  under 
ground,  ready  for  use  the  moment  they  dared  bring  them  forth. 
Alexandria  was  a  secession  hold,  and  many  seizures  of  con- 
cealed arms  had  been  made  there,  until  the  Union  officers  be- 
lieved that  the  contraband  stock  must  be  very  nearly  exhaust- 
ed. But  one  night  orders  came  for  the  Zouave  company  and 
one  company  of  the  Michigan  troops,  to  surround  a  certain 
block  half  a  dozen  squares  from  the  wharves,  and  seize  a  can- 
non, or  perhaps  two,  hidden  there,  the  locality  of  which  had 
at  last  been  betrayed.  Solemnly  and  sternly,  at  daylight 
t lie  next  morning,  the  troops  marched  from  their  quarters artd 
drew  a  cordon  around  the  entire  block.  Solemnly  and  stern- 
ly they  entered  every  house,  searched  it  from  garret  to  base- 
ment, explored  the  yards  and  even  dog  up  the  cellars  where 
the  loose  earth  rendered  the  burying  of  a  piece  practicable'. 
Much  perspiration  they  expended,  and  much  wonder  they 
vented,  for  at  lea>t  one  piece  must  be  there — they  km-u;.  And 
a  little  after  noon  they  found  the  gun  so  dangerous  in  rebel 
hands,  lying  in  one  of  the  back  yards  ;  and  they  gathered 
solemnly  and  reverently  around  it.  It  was  a  child'*  toy  can- 
non, just  four  inches  long t  And  two  companies  of  the  Uni- 
ted States  forces  had  been  "  sold"  for  almost  an  entire  day, 
bv  one  of  the  cleverest  "  put  up  jobs''  of  the  century. 

It  is  time  to  return  for  a  moment  to  Burtnett  Haviland, 
who  shared  the  fortunes  of  the  other  Zouaves  of  Captain 
.Tack's  company,  in  keeping  watch  over  the  warehouses  at  Al- 
exandria,     Nothing   has   been  said   of   his  state  of    feeling, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  867 

since  weeks  before  when  the  regiment  was  about  moving  from 
Qamp  Decker.  What  had  be  heard  from  his  wife  ?  What 
had  occurred  to  soothe  or  to  intensify  that  lacerated  and  al- 
most exasperated  feeling  which  moved  him  to  apply  for  a 
furlough  on  the  day  of  the  departure  ?  lie  had  heard  noth- 
ing from  his  wife — not  one  word,  tVom  that  day.  Letters 
had  eeased  to  come  to  him,  though  that  no  stoppage  in  the 
mails  could  be  the  cause  of  the  continued  failure,  was  but  too 
evident,  from  his  occasional  reception  of  letters  from  others — 
his  cousin  Kate  among  the  number*  The  reader  knows  what 
he  was  likely  to  hear  from  his  home,  through  her:  none  of 
his  other  correspondents  had  any  occasion  to  speak  of  his 
wife,  or  would  have  any  thought  of  doing  so.  Me  had  heard 
nothing  of  her — nothing— not  one  word, — from  the  hour  when 
the  careless  remark  of  his  acquaintance  showed  her  to  have 
been  in  a  place  of  popular  amusement  with  the  merchant  ; 
and  as  a  consequence,  in  spite  of  himself,  from  that  hour  he 
had  seen  her  with  the  eyes  of  his  mind,  in  no  other  relation 
but  that  of  a  gay,  heartless  woman  who  had  forgotten  her 
husband  and  plunged  into  fashionable  dissipation  as  a  substi- 
tute for  his  society. 

Precisely  what  Haviland  believed  of  his  wife  at  this  junc- 
ture, it  is  difficult  to  say  :  it  might  have  been  difficult  for  him- 
self to  explain.  That  he  had  been  driven  by  a  combination 
of  circumstances  to  believe  her  weak  and  heartless  if  not 
criminal,  and  his  own  domestic  happiness  destroyed  for  the 
remainder  of  their  natural  lives, — is  beyond  question.  What 
he  harbored  of  discontent  and  anger,  of  the  feeling  of  in- 
tense wrong,  and  of  the  necessity  of  some  future  revenge,  he 
was  precisely  the  man  to  have  kept  altogether  to  himself,  even 
ha4  the  dearest  of  friends  stood  at  his  elbow.  And  if  he  had 
not  found  a  total  change  of  his  nature,  in  the  unexpected  cir- 
cumstances crowding  upon  him,  he  had  at  least  been  stunned 
(so  to  speak)  ami  found  some  of  the  belter  qualities  of  that 
nature  paralyzed.  That  he  should  not  have  allowed  himself 
to  receive  those  suspicious  circumstances  blindly — that  he 
should  have  shown  more  faith  and  trust  in  the  woman  who 
had  for  four  years  slept  upon  his  heart— that  he  ought  to  have 
investigated  the  reports  that  seemed   so   injurious,  and    (bund 


368  TITE      PAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

some  means  to  discover  why  he  received  no  letter?,  Instead 
of  receiving  that  failure  as  a  proof  that  he  wafl  cast  off  ami 
forgotten — that  he  should  have  gone  home,  all  other  researches 
failing,  at  any  price,  even  that  of  desertion, — may  all  be  true  ; 
and  yet  no  man  knows  precisely  how  he  would  have  acted 
under  corresponding  circumstances. 

Enough  to  say  that  he  seemed  to  have  accepted  his  fate — 
that  he  applied  for  no  furlough  and  held  no  more  conversation 
with  Captain  Jack  on  the  subject — that  he  mechanically  asked 
for  letters  when  the  mail  for  the  Company  arrived,  and  swal- 
lowed any  disappointment  he  might  have  felt,  at  that  sad 
word  to  the  expectant,  "Xone  !" — that  he  grew  taciturn  and 
comparatively  moody,  and  asked  no  questions  of  the  New 
York  visitors  who  might  have  chanced  to  say  at  least  some 
word  to  enlighten  if  not  to  comfort  him — that  he  mechani- 
cally performed  his  duties  as  a  soldier,  his  uniform,  accoutre- 
ments and  person  always  in  order  and  himself  quoted  as  a 
model  of  discipline  and  reliability — and  that  during  all  this 
time  his  ruddy  cheek  grew  thinner,  his  eye  heavier  and  more 
lowering,  his  lips  more  silent,  and  himself  less  and  less,  day 
by  day,  the  frank,  whole-hearted,  joyous  man  who  had  so  con- 
scientiously and  ardently  enlisted  in  the  Union  service.  To 
which  may  be  added  that  with  his  hair  cut  short  to  his  head, 
for  coolness,  and  with  his  beard  clipped  close,  after  the  man- 
ner of  all  the  Zouaves  who  had  any,  he  was  shamefully  dis- 
figured, and  half  his  best  friends  would  not  have  known  him 
under  that  radical  change. 

We  shall  catch  one  more  glimpse  of  him,  at  a  very  early 
period,  and  before  he  became  a  part  of  that  sorrowful  spec- 
tacle set  for  the  eyes  of  the  world  on  the  plains  of  Manasses, 
on  the  21st  of  Julv,  1861. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Merchant  coming  Home — tViNE  at  the  St.  Nicholas 

— A  LITTLE  "  tjRGENT  BUSINESS" — HOW  SARAH  SANDERSON 

saw  a  Ghost  and  found  it  Human — A  Servant  Girl 
"on  leave" — Alone  in  the  House — The  Tempter  and 
ins  Victim — How  even  a  Man  of  the  World  may  be 
puzzled — A  Sudden  Change  and  a  Disappearance. 

Saturday  evening,  13th  of  July.  That, afternoon  the  Cu- 
nard  steamer  hail  gone  to  her  moorings  at  Jersey  City,  and 
fe'alf  a  dozen  of  her  passengers,  not  yet  quite  content  with  the 
companionship  they  li'ad  kept  for  the  previous  ten  days  on 
shipboard,  hud  gone  up  to  the  St.  Nicholas,  dined,  and  indulged 
somewhat  freely  in  "Green  Seal"  and  other  varieties  of  the 
liquid  products  of  French  vineyards  and  Jersey  cider-presses. 
One  of  the  party  had  taken  a  different  carriage  from  the 
others,  at  the  pier,  promising  to  keep  the  appointment  nearly 
as  soon  as  his  companions.  He  had  reached  the  hotel  but  a 
little  while  after  them,  in  fact,  but  with  quite  time  enough 
elapsing  to  permit  of  a  hurried  visit  to  a  mercantile  house  in 
a  street  which  the  reader  of  this  narration  has  before  had  oc- 
casion to  enter.  Man  of  pleasure  as  was  this  passenger  by 
the  Persia,  hurrying  away  from  his  enjoyments  on  board  that 
steamer,  to  other  and  wilder  orgies  on  the  land — he  was  yet  a 
man  of  business,  and  the  ramifications  of  an  extensive  trade 
were  to  be  looked  after  before  even  the  parting  banquet  could 
be  enjoyed.  The  merchant  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Wales  and 
nodded  to  one  or  two  of  the  others,  glanced  hastily  over  half 
.  :i  letters  especially  kept  for  him  by  the  gray-headed 
book-keeper,  made  inquiries  as  to  certain  important  opera- 
tions, commended  the  position  of  a  few  things  and  found  fault 
with  a  corresponding  number  by  way  of  keeping  up  the 
23  3G9 


370  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

necessary  balance  of  discipline,  and  then  rolled  away  in  his 
carriage — hurrying  home  to  the  embraces  of  his  family,  as 
most  or  all  of  his  subordinates  believed;  to  the  St.  Nicholas 
and  a  species  of  dissipation  not  very  usual  with  him,  in 
reality. 

The  scope  of  this  narration  does  not  bring  us  within  any 
tfoae  view  of  the  movements  of  the  merchant  during  his  few 
weeks  of  previous  absence.  Except  in  the  rare  yet  not  im- 
possible event  of  the  loss  of  a  steamer  by  fire  or  storm,  there 
is  very  little  of  mark  in  voyages  by  steam  between  two 
nations  only  separated  by  a  paltry  three  thousand  miles. 
Things  have  changed  materially  since  some  of  us,  then  at 
adult  age  and  even  now  only  a  little  gray  about'  the  tem- 
ples, confidently  prophesied  that  any  attempt  to  traverse  the 
ocean  by  steam  must  be  a  melancholy  failure.  They  have 
changed  almost  as  much,  in  the  staunchness  and  reliability 
of  those  very  steamers,  since  poor  Power  went  away  in  the 
President  and  buried  all  that  wealth  of  Irish  humor  where  so 
many  other  gems  too  bright  for  the  world  had  preceded  it — 
''down  with  Wally,  drownded,  in  the  deep,  deep  sea!"'  as 
Burton  used  to  say  with  a  pathos  of  drollery  that  made  the 
eyes  moist  while  the  laugh  was  yet  rippling  from  the  lips. 
They  have  changed  again,  and  in  another  direction,  since  the 
day  when  Collins  directed  a  fleet  of  steamers  unequalled  in 
speed  and  power — when  America  was  at  the  head  of  the 
passeuger-trade  between  New  York  and  Liverpool — and 
when  the  world  fondly  believed  that  she  had  wisdom  and 
liberality  enough  to  hold  fast  what  she  had  attained.  The 
Cunarder  dwarfs  and  outstrips  all  others,  now.  even  when 
there  is  no  war  in  the  Western  World  to  make  an  excuse  for 
the  failure  of  our  capital  and  the  want  of  spirit  of  our 
merchants.  They  may  change  again,  some  day,  for  better  or 
for  worse;  as  the  whole  communication  of  intelligence 
between  the  two  continents  certainly  will  change  when  Cyrus 
AN'.  Field  and  his  brother  American  blunderers,  unwarned 
by  the  history  of  the  past  and  the  omens  of  the  present, 
have  assisted  in  laying  down  once  more,  with  the  aid  of 
American  capital,  an  Atlantic  Telegraph  Cable  with  both  its 
ends  on  British  soil,  and  the  only  hope  that  it  will  not  add  to 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  371 

tho  consolidation  of  British  power  and  the  consequent  crip- 
pling uf  0ur  own,  lying  in  the  chance  that  it  may  again 
refuse  to  work,  from  its  location  in  those  regions  of  eternal 
aurora-borealis  whore  air  and  water  necessarily  conduct  more 
electricity  than  land-wire  or  sea^-eable. 

Mr.  Charles  Holt,  merchant,  had  made  a  pleasant  run  over 
on  the  si  earner,  relieved  the  burthened  mind  of  Mr.  Beverley 
Andn-ws,  assisted  him  in  some  iinancial  arrangements  just 
bold  enough  to  be  successful  and  just  near  enough  to  the 
yci-pc  of  bejng  dishonorable  to  escape  that  reputation,  made 
a  terrible  onslaught  upon  those  stylos  of  goods  which  he  felt 
would  supply  "his  country's  need/'  lounged  a  couple  of  days 
at  the  "  Crystal  Palace,  inspected  a  couple  more  of  old 
castles  that  he  had  happened  to,  miss  on  previous  visits  and 
that  lay  very  near  London,  hoard  Tiotjens  for  the  first  time 
and  Sims  Reeves  for  the  fiftieth,  and  then  made  a  pleasant 
run  back  again,  after  blending  the  "  utile"  and  the  "  dnloe" 
something  on  the  principle  of  that  thrifty  young  merchant 
who  once  went  on  his  "  wedding  and  collecting  tour."  He 
had  gone— ho  had  transacted  his  business— ho  had  returned, 
to  transact  other  business:  so  few  words  tell  what  might 
otherwise  be  made  a  long,  story.  And  this  brings  us  back 
once  more  to  that  popular  caravanserai  from  which  we  had 
wandered  even  beyond  the  reach  of  its  tremendous  dinner- 
summons— tho  St.  Nicholas. 

Jt  was  some  six  o'clock  when  the  party  took  their  seats  at 
the  table  in  one  of  the  private  parlors  of  that  hotel ;  and  it 
was  about  eight  when  the  merchant,  looking  at  his  watch, 
declared  his  inability  to  remain  longer,  because  busine 
the  most  pressing  character  demanded  that  he  should  look 
after  it  immediately.  The  good  steamer  that  had  carried 
them  safely  over,  tho  courteous  Captain  who  commanded  her, 
America  and  England  (the  latter  in  compliment  to  two  or 
throe  of  the  guests  who  were  of  British  birth),  and  each  of 
the  party  by  name,  had  all  been  toasted  meanwhile;  and 
while  there  was  not  a  member  of  the  party  who  could  be 
spoken  of  as  "drunk,"  in  the  vulgar  acceptation  of  the  word, 
there  was  net  one  but  had  taken  sufficient  wine  to  fever  his 
blood  and  destroy  the  cooler  balance  of  his  judgment. 


372  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

What  with  the  still-sensible  motion  of  the  steamer  and  the 
effects  of  the  wine  he  had  taken,  Charles  Holt,  when  he  left 
the  table  amid  the  regrets  of  the  party  and  stepped  down  to 
the  office  of  the  hotel  to  order  a  carriage,  was  nearer  tipsy 
than  he  had  before  been  for  many  a  long  day.  And  yet  not 
tipsy — only  heated,  exhilarated,  and  the  cooler  and  more  re- 
liable nature  of  the  man  for  the  time  held  under  thrall  by  a 
power  foreign  to  itself. 

At  a  little  later  than  half-past  eight  the  same  evening, 
Sarah  Sanderson  was  descending  the  steps  of  Bnrtnett  Ilavi- 
land's  little  house  on  East  Forty-eighth  Street,  basket  on  arm, 
to  make  some  late  purchases  at  the  baker's  and  the  grocery- 
man's.  Just  as  Bhe  reached  the  last  step  and  descended  to 
the  side-walk,  she  was  confronted  by  the  figure  of  a  man  who 
stopped  full  in  front  of  her.  For  the  instant  she  did  not  re- 
cognize him — the  next,  as  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face  by 
the  light  of  the  street-lamp,  she  saw  that  it  was  the  merchant. 

The  false  are  always  cowardly,  and  almost  always  super- 
stitious. They  are  themselves  outrages  upon  nature,  and 
believe  all  other  outrages  upon  it  to  be  possible.  For  the 
moment,  so  suddenly  had  the  merchant  come  upon  her,  and 
so  little  had  she  dreamed  of  his  being  within  thousands  of 
of  herself,  the  girl  was  disposed  to  believe  his  appear- 
ance supernatural ;  and  she  barely  escaped  uttering  one  of 
those  screams  of  terror,  ranging  between  a  howl  and  a  yell, 
which  are  considered  more  forcible  than  agreeable,  even  by 
the  ablest  defenders  of  the  music  of  the  human  voice.  A 
scream  which  might  have  perilled  more  than  her  ill-regulated 
brain  could  then  have  imagined.  She  did  not  scream,  how- 
ever, fir  before  she  could  fairly  modulate  the  sound,  the  voice 
of  Charles  Holt  reassured  while  it  rated  her,  and  she  did  not 
even  drop  her  basket. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  you  little  fool?"'  it  said.  "You 
tremble,  and  seem  ready  to  scream  !  Do  you  think  that  I  am 
a  ghos 

h  no,  sir,  I  don't,  riow,'1  said  the  girl,  "but  indec 
scared  me  for  a  moment.     I  did  not  know  you  was  back." 

'•And  I  did  not  know  it  myself,  until  an  hour  or  two 
ago,"  said  the  merchant.     "  Never  mind  that,  now.     I  came 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  373 

to-day.     It  is  very  lucky  that  I  met  you  here.     Come  this 
way — there  may  be  some  one  listening  around  these  stoops." 

A  portion  of  both  sides  of  Forty-eighth  Street,  between 
Second  and  Third  Avenues,  and  nearest  the  latter,  was  then 
unimproved  ground,  not  even  enclosed  from  the  street,  and 
some  of  the  lots  scattered  over  with  huge  boulders  of  stone 
not  yet  cleared  away  from  the  blasting  that  had  taken  place 
in  the  neighborhood.  Few  persons  passed  up  and  down  the 
broken  sidewalk  ;  and  it  was  not  easy  to  find  a  better  place 
for  a  conversation  not  intended  to  be  overheard,  than  opposite 
the  vacant  lots.  The  merchant's  eye  had  scanned  the  fact, 
weeks  before,  and  it  was  to  that  place  that  he  rather  preceded 
than  accompanied  the  servant-girl. 

"  Now,"  he  said  when  they  had  reached  the  spot,  "  I  wish 
to  know  all  that  has  taken  place  since  I  have  been  absent. 
Did  you  obey  my  orders  ?" 

"  Every  one  of  them,"  was  the  answer. 

"How  many  letters  has  the  post-man  brought  for  Mrs. 
Haviland  ? — I  mean  letters  from  her  husband  ?" 

"  None — not  one." 

■  *  You  are  sure  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know  he  hasn't  brought  her  any." 

11  Humph  !  well,  I  rather  thought  he  wouldn't,  after  the 
little  conversation  I  had  with  him  !"  said  the  merchant,  his 
tone  very  much  like  a  sneer.  "And  how  many  have  you 
allowed  her  to  send/?2»i  ?" 

"I  don't  think  she  has  sent  any,  though  she  has  written 
a  good  many,"  answered  the  girl.  "She  always  sent  me 
with  the  letters,  I  guess,  and  I  have  kept  them  all.  Maybe 
she  may  have  put  one  or  two  into  the  box  herself— I  think 
not,  though.  Lately  she  does  not  write  any,  as  she  never 
receives  any  answers." 

"  Hum  !  no,  I  suppose  not !"  commented  the  merchant. 
"  Well,  Sarah,  you  appear  to  be  a  very  good  girl,  so  far.    By 

the  way,  those  letters  are  not  safe  for  you  to  keep let  me 

have  them  the   first  opportunity.     Now  tell   me  something 
more.     How  is  your  mistress  ?     Well  ?" 

"  She's  well  enough,"  replied  the  girl,  with  something  in 
her  tone  which  implied  that  she  was  even  too  well  for  her  own 


374  THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

individual  fancy.  "  But  she  is  a  little  mopey  and  peaked — ■ 
she  couldn't  help  being  that.  I  snppoe 

"jSTo,"  said  the  merchant,  "that  is  all  natural  enough. 
Been  lonely,  of  course — poor  thing!  Now  that  I  am  1 » : t - •  k 
again*  she  must  not  be  left  alone  so  much.  She  is  alone  now, 
I  suppose  ?     And  where  were  you  going  when  I  met  vou  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  was  going  up  to  the  grocery  and  the  baker's."  said 
the  young  girl,  answering  the  last  question  first.  "And  she 
is  alone— not  a  soul  but  herself  and  the  little  girl  in  the 
whole  house." 

"  You  mean  in  her  part  of  it,"  said  the  merchant,  recalling 
a  thought  that  had  more  than  once  crept  into  his  head — what 
a  bore  it  was  that  people  could  not  live  in  houses  without 
other  families  under  the  same  roof,  and  how — .  But  that 
portion  of  his  contemplation  may  be  quite  as  well  left  un- 
written. 

"  Xo,  I  don't  mean  any  thing  of  the  kind  !*'  said  the  girl, 
in  reply.  "  She  is  all  alone — all  but  the  little  girl.  You 
will  find  no  oil-cloth  in  the  hall,  when  you  go  in,  for  the 
famihr  that  lived  below  moved  out  in  the  country,  on  a  farm, 
two  or  three  weeks  ago." 

Are  there  fiends  who  move  beside  us  and  stand  at  our  el- 
bows wherever  we  go,  ready  to  drop  a  temptation  or  a  foul 
suggestion  into  the  heart  and  the  ear,  at  any  opportune  mo- 
ment— -just  as  there  certainly  are  ministering  angels  always 
beside  us,  ready,  whenever  permitted,  to.  whisper  some  sug- 
gestion of  good  and  drop  some  seed  that  may  blossom  for 
eternal  life  ?  Is  there  an  Anteros  to  be  worshipped  as  well 
as  an  Eros,  the  one  as  a  bribe  to  absent  himself  and  be  an  hi: 
nocuous  enemy,  as  the  other  is  to  be  wrooed  and  welcomed  as  a 
dear  friend  ?  And  were  the  philosophical  heathens  of  old 
right  after  all,  in  this  particular  ?  Who  knows  ?  Certain  it 
is  that  some  of  us,  when  only  a  minor  evil  is  in  the  heart, 
find  temptation  and  opportunity  for  one  more  damning,  so 
often  that  the  Tempter  becomes  a  reality  instead  of  an  ab- 
straction ;  and  even  the  saint  upon  his  knees  -and  the  minis- 
tering angel  beside  the  couch  sometimes  have  occasion  to 
shriek  out  their  prayer  for  deliverance. 

Charles  Holt  stood  silent  for  some  moments  after  the  girl 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  375 

had  uttered  the  last  words.     He  could  not  have  spoken,  then, 
had  his  existence  depended  upon  the  effort,     More  than  forty 
years  of  life  had  done  nothing  to  render  him  marble  in  feeling; 
however  they  might  have  made  him  unyielding. as  that  stone 
in  heart  and   purpose.     He  could  yet  thrill — enjoy— suffer. 
For  a  moment  after  the  girl  had   ceased  speaking,  one  short 
sentence    rang    through    his    head    with    an    hundred    repe- 
titions—so    many     repetitious,    that     not     one     tenth    part 
of  the  number  could  really  have  been  made  by  the  voice  with- 
in that  space.     "All  alone— except  the  little  girl!"     "All 
alone— except  the  little  girl  !"     "  All  alone— except  the  little 
girl  !,?     The  strong  man  trembled,  under  the  weight"  of  that 
sudilen    and    overwhelming   temptation— to    what,  even    he 
scarcelv    knew    himself.     In    one  moment  every  thing  had 
changed  to  him.     Restraints  he  had  dreaded   were  removed 
as  if  by  some   infernal    providence.     Opportunities  he  had 
never  hoped  lor,  sprang  forth  to  meet  him.    The  steamer  had 
arrived  at  the  right  moment.      He  had  dined  at  the  St.  Nich- 
olas at  the  right  time,  and  taken  carriage  at  the  very  instant. 
There  was  a  thrill  in  all  his  nerves— a  choking  in  his  throat — 
a  beating  of  heavy  hammers  at  his  temples.      How  much  of 
this  was  wine  and  how  much  the  natural  development  of  hu- 
man passion,  is  a  matter  for  the  physiologists   to  decide  at 
their   leisure. 

But  the  nerves  calm  more  quickly,  after  forty  and  before 
the  weakness  of  decay  comes  on,  than  they  do  at  twenty-five  ; 
and  if  resolutions  are  less  quickly  formed  they  are  formed 
with  more  steadiness.  Whatever  the  surprise  and  whatever 
the  temptation,  the  one  was  overcome  and  the  other  accepted, 
before  the  girl,  standing  in  the  dim  shadows  by  the  open  lot, 
had  time  for  more  than  a  few  heart-beats  of  wonder  at  his 
sudden  silence.  When  the  merchant  spoke  again,  his  voire 
was  certainly  hoarser  than  it  had  been  before,  as  if  he  might 
have  taken  a  chill  even  in  the  warm  summer  air ;  but  it  was 
quite  clear  and  steady. 

"  You  are  going  up  to  the  grocery,  you  say  ?" 
"Yes,  sir;  and  to  the  baker's  ;  and  the  baker  will  be  shut 
up  if  I  stand  here  much  longer." 

"  Humph,  well,  Sarah,  you  can  take  your   time  and  need 


376  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

not  hurry  back  to  the  bouse/'  said  the  merchant,  his  tones 
equable  as  they  could  have  been  in  directing  the  overlooking 
of  an  invoice.  •  "  I  am  going  down  to  chat  with  Mrs.  llavi- 
land  awhile,  and  she  will  not  miss  you,  while  I  am  there,  if 
you  run  in  to  see  some  of  the  neighbor  girls  and  do  not  come 
back  for  an  hour  or  even  longer.     Do  you  hear  me  ?" 

11  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  girl,  "-but  Mrs.  Haviland "  and  she 

was  going  on  to  say  that  some  of  the  articles  from  the  gro- 
cery might  be  wanted,  when  the'  voice  of  the  merchant,  hoarse 
as  before  but  much  sharper,  interrupted  her. 

"  I  asked  you  if  you  heard  what  I  said,  and  you  answered 
'Yes.'  That  is  enough.  Now  obey  my  orders  without 
question.  It  is  now  nearly  nine,"  pulling  out  his  watch  and 
deciphering  the  hour  even  in  the  dim  light.  "  Go  and  do  your 
errands.  At  ten  o'clock — not  a  moment  before — come  back 
to  the  house.     Do  you  hear  me  this  time  ?" 

"  Yres,  sir,"  answered  the  girl,  her  voice  lower,  more  broken, 
and  as  if  frightened.  How  nearly  she  understood  the  man, 
only  the  overwatching  intelligences  can  say.  That  she  under- 
stood something,  and  was  a  little  frightened  thereat,  was  but 
too  evident. 

"You  know  me,"  continued  the  tempter,  now  become  the 
master,  "  and  you  know  that  I  can  ruin  you  the  moment  I 
choose.  Here  is  something  more  to  buy  ribbons — that  proves 
that  I  can  be  a  good  friend  to  you  when  you  obey  me,"  and 
the  girl  felt  that  he  dropped  a  heavy  golden  double-eagle  into 
her  fingers.  "Disobej7"  me,  and  you  will  very  soon  know  the 
consequences.  By  ten  o'clock  I  shall  be  done  chatting  with 
Mrs.  Haviland,  and  you  may  come  back.  Now  go  and  do 
your  errands,  and  then  pay  your  visits." 

His  voice  had  lost  all  its  severity  of  a  moment  before,  and 
seemed  almost  playful.  If  there  was  any  perception  of  his 
true  meaning  in  the  mind  of  Sarah  Sanderson,  and  if  she  had 
one  spark  of  feeling  left  for  the  honor  and  reputation  of  the 
woman  she  at  once  served  and  hated — that  change  in  tone 
somewhat  reassured  her.  She  turned  away  without  another 
word,  and  went  towards  Third  Avenue  with  her  basket,  while 
the  merchant,  watching  her  disappearing  form  for  a  moment, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  377 

thon  retraced  his  Steps  down  the  street  to  the  door  of  the 
house  he  had  before  approached. 

The  door  was  closed,  and  he  rang  the  bell,  It  is  doubtful 
whether  that  Bingular,  bold,  bad  man,  who  had  passed  through 

so  many  varied  scenes  and  enjoyed  so  many  triumphs  as  well 
as  suffered  so  many  agonies — had  ever  before  rung  the  bell 
for  admission  to  any  house,  with  precisely  the  same  course 
of  reflection  while  waiting  for  the  answer  to  the  summons. 

Two  or  three  minutes — they  seemed  many  more  to  Charles 
Holt — and  then  a  light  foot  descended  the  stair  and  the  door 
opened.  Mary  Haviland  stood  once  more  before  the  man 
who  had,  without  her  knowledge,  exercised  so  controlling  a 
power  over  her  destiny,  and  who  seemed  likely  to  sway  it 
still  further — where,  heaven  only  knew  !  She  recognized  him 
at  once,  even  in  the  dim  light  that  came  down  from  the  land- 
ing; and  when  he  said  :  "  Mrs.  Haviland  ! — Mary  !"  and  held 
out  both  his  hands  to  her,  it  was  with  something  very  like  a 
cry  of  joy  that  she  rather  flung  than  put  both  those  small 
hands  into  his  grasp.  And  when  she  said,  in  response  to  his 
words  :  "  Mr.  Holt — I  am  very,  very  glad  to  see  you  !"  she 
told  nothing  more  than  the  truth,  and  her  eyes,  which  the 
merchant  saw  had  grown  sadder  and  larger  than  he  had 
known  them  a  few  weeks  earlier,  seemed  to  light  up  With  joy 
that  could  not  be  controlled. 

For  just  one  instant  that  confidence  and  trust  touched  the 
man  of  the  world  ;  but  it  was  only  for  one  instant.  The  next, 
that  subtle  flattery  fell  upon  other  and  more  dangerous  senses, 
and  the  demi-god  became  the  fiend  !  She  thought  of  the 
bare  appearance  of  the  hall,  without  oil-cloth  or  any  covering 
to  the  floor,  and  apologized  for  it  in  the  simple  words:  "You 
must  excuse  the  looks  of  our  hall  floor — laying  down  the  oil- 
cloth here  belongs  to  the  people  who  occupy  the  lower  story, 
and  they  have  moved  away  suddenly  and  left  it  as  you  see!" 
and  those  very  words  recalled  the  haunting  sentence :  "All 
alone — except  the  little  girl V  No,  he  did  not  relent  :  had  be 
ever  relented,  or  been  foiled  in  any  purpose  of  his  will  ? 
Never  ! — and  it  was  scarcely  time,  then,  to  begin  ! 

Hark  !  there  came  the  very  echo  to  his  thought  !  Never 
woman  spoke  words  with  less  of  improper  meaning  than  her 


3  i  8  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

f 
gentle:  "  We  are  all  alone — little  Pel  and  I.  Sarah  has  pone 
out.  Come  up-stairs  I"  but  they  fell  upon  the  ears  of  that 
man — God  forgive  him  ! — almost  as  an  invitation  to  pursue 
his  schemes  of  lawless  love!  There  are  men  (aye,  and 
women  I)  who  see  voluptuousness  in  tin*  marble  and  eaten 
libidinous  sensations  from  the  very  songs  of  birds.  Tlmyaru 
coarse,  material  Bjorns  standing  beside  the  Frithiofe  of  love 
and  devotion,  and  seeing  in  [ngeborg  the  Fair  only  a  woman 
to  be  torn  shrieking  away  from  her  husband's  side,  while  the 
Viking  beholds  her  as  something  holier  than  mortal  flesh,  to 
be  worshipped  afar  off  with  a  purer  flame  than  that  which 
once  burned  in  the  temple  of  Balder.  And  of  them  and  of 
all  such  let  the  solemn  invocation  be  uttered  once  more — Grod 
pity  and  help  them  !  For  they  lack  all  that  makes  earth 
beautiful  and  heaven  possible. 

Alary  Haviland  turned  to  lead  the  way  up-stairs.  There, 
was  a  small  table  standing  at  the  foot,  where  the  hat-rack 
of  the  departed  family  had  stood  so  lately,  and  Charles  Holt 
laid  down  his  hat  upon  it.  As  he  did  so,  though  the  light 
was  very  dim,  he  caught  the  glitter  of  the  brass  key  on  the 
inside  of  the  door.  Then,  another  thought  perhaps,  and  per- 
haps merely  the  carrying  out  of  one  before  harbored.  It  was 
but  a  turn  of  the  head,  quick  as  lightning,  to  see  that  the 
young  wife  was  going  steadily  up  the  stair,  with  her  back 
towards  him, — and  then  a  turn  of  the  wrist,  almost  as  quick, 
but  steady  and  careful,  so  that  not  even  a  click  should  be 
heard.  It  was  done — the  merchant  was  alone  in  the  house 
with  the  woman  whom  he  had  marked  as  his  victim — alone 
except  as  to  the  little  child  that  lay  cradled  in  sleep — alone, 
and  with  the  door  locked,  so  that  none — not  even  Sarah  with 
her  pass-key — could  enter  from  without ! 

There  was  no  light,  or  a  very  dim  one.  in  the  back-room. 
In  the  front,  one  burner  of  the  small  chandelier  was  ablaze  ; 
affording  sufficient  light  for  the  unromantic  task  of  "mending'' 
upon  which  the  young  wife  had  been  engaged  before  disturbed, 
and  proving  (by  the  care  taken  not  to  waste  the  illuminating 
vapor)  that  the  gas-bills  were  habitually  paid  on  call  ! 

Mary  Haviland  set  a  chair  for  her  visitor,  very  near  where 
her  own  remained,  and  resumed  her  seat  as  well  as  her  work; 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  879 

while  pefhapa  it  may  be  said  tlie  merobanl  resumed  his! 
He  had,  for  the  first  time,  an  opportunity  to  scan  the  counte- 
nance of  the  young  wife  closely,  and  to  Bee  the  inroads  which 
disappointment  and  anxiety  had  been  making  upon  it.  It 
was  SO  much  thinner,  and  the  eyes  looked  SO  large  and  mourn- 
ful, while  something  like  a  quiver,  born  of  many  tears,  played 
continually  around  the  mouth.  Hut  the  blonde  hair  seemed 
brighter  than  ever;  the  beauty  6f  the  young  wife  had  not  been 
of  that  fragile  order  incapable  of  bearing  the  least  depletion; 
and  it  may  be  said  that  she  was  more  winningly — more  melt- 
ingly — beautiful  than  ever  before.  If  the  heart  of  the  mer- 
chant for  one  moment  smote  him  in  the  knowledge  that  more 
than  half  the  shadows  on  that  fair  face  had  been  of  his  set- 
ting-, other  and  less  creditable  feelings,  promoted  no  doubt  by 
the  fiery  wines  he  had  so  lately  been  drinking,  surged  up- 
wards and  drowned  all  impulses  of  mercy. 

But  this  man  was  a  man  of  business,  always — as  has  before 
been  remarked.  There  was  not  a  joy  so  dear  or  an  agony  so 
acute  that  in  the  midst  of  it  he  could  not  count  dollars  and 
cetitS  !  lie  had  ascertained,  at  the  store,  that  the  salary  of 
the  clerk  had  not  been  paid  for  the  past  week;  and  after  the 
first  commonplaces  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  little  roll  of 
bills  and  handed  them  to  the  wife,  who  nodded  her  thanks 
and  dropped  them  into  her  pocket  with  the  tiniest  of  charm- 
ing blushes  for  the  moment  lighting  up  a  face  that  had 
become  almost  too  fair  if  not  pale.  Then  the  recollection  of 
thf  service  for  which  the  money  was  paid,  and  that  total 
separation  from  her  husband  which  she  could  neither  explain 
nor  understand,  came  suddenly  over  her,  her  work  fell  upon 
her  lap,  she  dropped  her  head  forward,  and  the  merchant 
could  see  that  two  or  three  bright  tears  trickled  away  from 
her  eyes  and  gemmed  her  cheeks.  Mary  Haviland  could  not 
conceal  feeling  as  she  had  done  before  her  husband's  depar- 
ture ! — who  can  bo  as  strong  after  a  month  of  fever  and  ex- 
haustion, as  when  the  system  is  healthy  and  the  veins  bound- 
ing with  life  ? 

The  merchant  drew  his  chair  close  to  that  of  the  unhappy 
woman — drew  it  up  so  quickly  that  she  perhaps  did  not 
know  of  the   movement.     The  next   iustant  he  had  both  her 


8^0  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

hands  in  his  and  was  leaning  over  close  to  her.  She  made 
no  effort  to  withdraw  her  hands,  and  the  tempter  Was  oven 
deceived  if  she  did  not  faintly  return  his  warm  pressure.  An 
instant  more,  and  he  had  dropped  upon  one  knee  at  the  Bide 
of  her  chair,  thrown  his  left  arm  around  her  shoulder  and 
drawn  her  over  to  him.  Even  this  movement  wae 
resisted,  and  the  fair  head  fell  upon  his  shoulder  as  if  the 
neck  had  long-  been  aching  with  the  effort  to  support  it. 
11  Mary  V  said  the  merchant,  his  voice  so  expressive  of 
sympathy  and  affection  that  it  might  have  won  a  less  yielding 
woman  than  Mary  Haviland  ;  and  at  the  same  instant  his 
head  bent  forward  to  the  face  that  lay  half  upturned  to  the 
light,  and  his  lips  glued  themselves  to  those  which  should 
have  been  so  sacred  against  such  a  touch. 

"  Xo — you  had  better  not  kiss  me,"  once  said  a  lady  in  a 
particular  presence,  the  words  rippling  from  her  tempting 
mouth  in  a  musical  burst  that  was  half  laughter.  "  Those 
who  kiss  me  have  a  bad  habit  of  never  forgetting  the  touch 
of  my  lips  !"  The  man  who  was  warned  did  not  heed — he 
persisted  in  his  opportunity — and  as  a  result,  from  that 
moment  there  grew  a  thrill  upon  his  memory  that  not  even 
changing  years,  gray  hairs,  pain,  toil  and  suffering  could 
ever  take  away.  In  that  one  touch  he  read  the  secret  of  all 
the  thraldoms  held  over  strong  men  by  weak  woman — by 
Semiramis  over  Xinus,  by  Cleopatra  over  Antony,  by 
Rosamond  over  Henry  of  England,  "by  Gabrielle  over  the 
Conqueror  of  the  League,  by  Castlemaine  over  the  Merry 
Monarch,  by  Montespan  over  Louis,  by — (let  us  bring  down 
the  comparison  to  our  own  times) — by  Mrs.  Howard  over 
the  husband  of  Eugenie.  Ever  after  he  carried  about  with  him 
a  recollection  which  enslaved  him  to  one  as  it  emancipated 
him  from  all  others.  Had  those  lips  been  evil,  he  would  have 
been  ruined  from  that  instant:  as  they  were  pure  in  every 
poise  that  beat  beneath  them,  and  fragrant  in  every  breath  that 
issued  through  gates  of  pearl  to  those  crimson  portals,  they 
only  opened  to  him  anew  life  whose  duration  ended  with  the 
beginning  of  the  life  beyond. 

This  is  the  story,  briefly  told,  of  the  witchery  of  the  lip.-. 
If  their  touch  is  thus  madness  when  only  purity  and  gooduess 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  381 

dictate  the  pressure,  what  indeed  must  it  be  when  the  pulses 
arc  running  riot  with  passion  and  all  the  better  angels  of  our 
B»ture  have  veiled  their  eyes  from  the  spectacle  of  the  man 
turned  for  the  moment  to  the  demon  !  Whatever  may  havo 
been  the  thoughts  and  intentions  of  Charles  Holt  the  instant 
before,  the  touch  of  those  marvellous  lips  maddened  him  as  a 
dozen  additional  bottles  of  wine  might  have  failed  to  do — 
removed  every  restraint — broke  down  every  barrier — and 
made  him  a  fiend  to  be  wrestled  and  prayed  against  with  all 
the  failing  energies  of  poor  human  nature. 

In  one  instant  he  had  flung  his  arms  around  the  waist  of 
the  young  wife  ;  his  sacrilegious  hands  gathered  her  close  to 
him  without  any  regard  to  the  propriety  of  his  touch  ;  his 
lips  devoured  hers  with  burning  kisses  that  dropped  thickly 
as  sparks  from  some  great  conflagration  and  seemed  to  blister 
where  they  fell  ;  and  his  tongue,  even  between  those  most 
unholy  and  enforced  caresses,  uttered  words  of  miscalled 
love  so  reckless  and  dangerous  that  no  ear  could  misunder- 
stand them. 

"  Mary  !  Mary  !  My  own  Mary  !  How  T  have  waited  for 
this  moment  1  I  have  loved  you — I  love  you,  deeply,  fondly 
— as  J  never  before  have  loved  woman  in  all  my  life  !  You 
love  ine,  I  know  that  you  do  !  You  are  mine  ! — you  must  be 
mine — body,  soul  and  spirit  !  Come  here — closer — you  are 
all  mine,  and  there  is  no  power  under  heaven  that  can  take 
you  out  of  my  arms  !" 

Great  heaven  ! — what  was  this  revelation  to  Mary  Havi- 
land  ? — She  who  had  up  to  that  moment  no  more  dreamed  of 
best  owing  upon  him  a  love  more  intense  than  that  she  could 
havo  borne  a  father  or  brother,  than  she  had  of  plunging  body 
and  soul  into  eternal  perdition  1  She  who  might  have  been, 
and  no  doubt  had  been,  imprudent — first  in  her  gratitude  to- 
wards him,  on  account  of  her  husband,  and  again  through  her 
loneliness,  the  great  difference  in  their  ages,  and  that  igno- 
rance of  the  nature  of  unholy  passion  which  was  a  part  of 
her  very  being  I  She  who  might  have  acted  as  if  centering 
an  unholy  love  around  that  man,  but  who  had  all  the  while 
never  dreamed  of  any  thing  more  than  friendship  and  pro- 
tection !     What  were  the  sensations  of  that  spotless  wife,  the 


T  II  K       L>  A  V  S       0  K       S  11   0  D  1»  V. 

doubiful  past  all  illumined   as  by   a  liprlitnincr  flash,  and  the 
whole  horrible  precipice  on  which  she   had  been   standing 

made  too  revoltingly  plain  ?  What  did  she  suffer  in  those  few 
moments,  clasped  in  the  arms  of  that  hot-blooded,  fierce-tem- 
pered man.  his  kisses  raining  upon  her  lips  and  checks,  his 
physical  power  enchaining  her,  and  his  words  stunning  her 
ears  while  his  fiery  and  blood-shot  eyes  literally  devoured  her 
face  ?  Not  even  her  broken  and  agonized  words  could  give 
any  indication  of  the  terrible  fear  and  horror  that  oppn 
her  ;  for  words  are  sometimes  powerless,  and  they  arc  almost 
always  so  when  they  should   carry   the    force  of  the  thunder. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Holt!  oh  Birl  Shame]  Shame!  Oh,  do  let 
me  go  !  Please  let  me  go  !  You  frighten  me  !  You  suffo- 
cate me  !  My  God  ! — my  husband  !  Oh,  sir  !  you  forget 
that  1  am  a  wife  !     Do  let  me  go  !     Please  let  me  go  !" 

Xo  response,  except  that  clasp  tightening  yet  more  closely, 
the  hands  more  reckless,  and  the  words  more  and  more 
fearful.  Then  a  horrible  culmination  of  fear  took  possession 
of  the  outraged  wife,  and  the  strength  that  madness  gives, 
came  to  her  relief.  Came  to  her  relief  too,  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  the  past  delirium  for  an  instant  weakened  her 
tempter  and  the  stiffened  nerves  relaxed.  By  an  almost  su- 
perhuman effort  she  released  herself  and  flung  him  off',  spring- 
ing to  her  feet,  and  dealing  him,  as  she  did  so,  a  blow  of  some 
force,  merely  by  accident  and  without  the  least  intention  of 
resisting  violence  by  violence  in  that  manner.  The  merchant 
was  on  his  feet  at  the  same  instant,  and  his  eyes  glared  upon 
her  with  the  passion  of  rage  that  the  apparently-intentional 
blow  had  engendered,  bleuded  with  the  fierce  energy  of  will 
that  had  only  become  more  violent  from  resistance.  She 
could  see  that  the  human  tiger  was  fairly  aroused — all  the 
"bad  passions  in  play — all  the  advantage  on  his  side.  Man 
against  woman  ;  reckless  strength  and  long  experience 
against  weakness  and  innocence  :  wealth,  that  always  compels 
what  it  cannot  buy,  and  habitually  makes  merchandize  of  the 
feelings  and  the  honor  of  poverty — against  that  poverty  in 
its  most  helpless  form  ;  all  overbalancing  against  her — not 
one  hope  that  was  not  crushed  down  by  a  deadly  fear  ! 

At  this  stage  of  the  narration,  it  becomes  a  matter  of  re- 


T  U  e     days     o  r     s  u  o  i»  d  t.  383 

gret  that  this  story  is  not  a  melo-drama — only  a  relation  of 
the  actual  life  of  to-day.  A  little  change  ra  time  and  place 
would  so  smooth  away  the  difficulties!  How  easily,  in  the 
melo-drama  aforesaid  or  the  novel  of  the  intense  school  upon 
which  it  is  founded,  the  heroine  can  always  pick  up  or  have 
conveniently  about  her  those  little  articles  necessary  for  her 
rescue!  It  is  always  so  convenient,  in  either  of  the  walks 
of  '•litter-ature'1  just  named,  for  the  Lady  Jsolinda,  borne 
away  from  her  sheltering  bower  by  the  demoniac  Lord  of 
Noirdiable.  immured  in  his  lonely  tower  and  visited  by  the 
tyrant  baron  at  midnight  with  the  basest  intentions,  just  as 
lie  lays  hand  upon  her,  to  break  oul  with  a  "  Ha!  ha  !— vil- 
lian.  you  are  foiled  I"  and  present  full  at  his  breast  a  horse- 
I''Mnl  (,r  Bueh  dimensions  that  it  could  not  be  conveniently 
carried  even  under  modern  crinoline-— thus  holding  him  at 
bay  till  the  walls  of  the  tower  can  be  battered  down,  precisely 
at  the  right  moment,  by  two  men,  three  women  and  a  boy, 
headed  by  her  true  lover,  the  young  Knight  of  Silvergilt,  who 
was  a  thousand  miles  away  only  a  few  minutes  previous,  but 
has  annihilated  space  as  easily  as  probabiliiy —and  the  rescue 
duly  accomplished!  And  what  difficulty  has  lovely  Susan, 
the  cottager's  daughter,  in  finding  a  table-knife  of  athletic 
proportions,  lying  loosely  around,  ready  to  catch  up  and  give 
the  corresponding  threat  against  his  life  or  her  own,  when 
Be  Hirsute,  the  whiskered  town  villain,  makes  hisdeadlv  on- 
slaught upon  her  fair  fame,  down  in  the  meadow,  out  in  the 
summer-house,  or  anywhere  else  that  mav  be  most  convenient 
for  the  story  ?  Alas  I— real  life  has  its"  limitations,  and  the 
nineteenth  century  is  peculiarly  Hasigeant.  Mary  Havilartd 
should  have  been  provided  with  a  six-shooter  or  at  least  a  big 
jack-knife,  to  make  the  narrative  run  smoothly;  but  the  poor 
little  woman  would  really  have  been  a  good  deal  worse  scared 
at  such  a  thing,  had  she  possessed  the  first,  than  any  person 
at  whom  she  pointed  it;  and  there  is  really  no  way  of  ac- 
counting for  the  presence  of  a  big  knife  in  the  room,  seeing 
that  the  time  was  too  early  in  the  season  for  the  peeling  of 
apples  or  peaches.  Her  scissors,  even  had  she  thought  of 
them,  were  not  large  enough  to  supply  a  dagger  of  verv  dan- 
gerous proportion^;   and  besides,  the  more  formidable  of  the 


334  THE      DAYS      OF     'SHODDY. 

two  points  niiglit  have  boon  broken  off  by  Pet  n  day  or  two 
before,  in  an  effort  at  Archimedean  leverage  between  two 
slabs  of  the  chimney-piece,  and  Sarah  failed  to  signal  a 
"grinder."  So  there  is  really  nothing  left  for  it,  but  to  fall 
back  upon  the  solemn,  sombre  reality  of  a  poor  little  woman 
in  terrible  peril,  with  no  means  of  defence  and  apparently 
none  of  escape. 

We  left  the  two,  a  moment  since,  confronting  each  other. 
It  was  but  a  moment  that  the  pause  endured.  In  the  next, 
the  hand  of  Charles  Holt  was  laid  upon  the  young  wife's  wrist, 
and  he  spoke  two  words  in  a  tone  that  he  strove  to  render 
Something  other  than  fierce,  and  yet  one  terribly  decided  : 

"  Come  here  !" 

There  was  not  strength  enough  in  Mary  Ilaviland,  and  she 
knew  it,  to  resist  his  drawing  her  towards  him  ;  but  there  was 
yet  strength,  as  she  believed,  in  prayers  and  tears,  and  she 
burst  into  an  agony  of  sobs,  as  she  uttered: — 

"Oh,  don't  !  Please  don't  !  I>on't  hurt  me,  please  don't! 
For  God's  sake,  Mr.  Holt,,  please  let  me  go!" 

Alas,  once  more  !  Her  soft  blonde  hair  had  become  par- 
tially dishevelled  during  the  first  struggle,  and  fell  bewitch* 
ingly  over  the  rounded  and  dimpled  shoulders  left  partially 
uncovered  in  the  freedom  of  her  summer-evening  dress.  There 
nough  even  in  the  charms  revealed,  to  excite  colder  and 
purer  men  than  Charles  Holt :  there  was  enough  to  make  him 
nearer  mad  than  ever.  Even  the  tears  softened  and  added 
to  the  attraction  of  the  pleading  face  ;  and  the  ripe  lips  really 
trembling  in  fear  and  agony,  quivered  an  ungovernable 
ing  iuto  the  human  animal. 

"I  have  told  you,  Mary  Ilaviland,"  said  the  merchant — ■ 
and  his  voice  was  steady,  firm  and  threatening — "that  I  will 
never  let  you  go  until  you  are  mine  !  I  love  you — deeply 
and  devotedly.  You  love  me,  though  you  dare  not  own  it. 
Your  husband  has  deserted  you — you  have  no  choice  but  to 
accept  my  love  and  protection." 

Again  that  low,  broken  answer — "Please  let  me  go!" 
Suddenly  a  new  thought  of  hope  struck  the  young  wife,  and 
she  gave  utterance  to  it  at  once.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Holt,  you  do  not 
know  to  what  danger  you  are  subjecting  me — and  yourself. 


T  II  K       DAYS      OF       SHODDY. 

Sarah  has  only  gone  out  for  a  few  minutes  :  she  may  come 
back  at  any  moment,  and  then  we  should  both  be  ruined." 

"Not  yet!"  said  the  merchant,  triumphantly,  his  hand 
still  around  her  wrist.  "  Sarah  has  gone  to  the  grocery  and 
the  baker's,  and  I  have  ordered  her  not  to  come  back  until 
ten — more  than  three-quarters  of  an  hour,  yet." 

"You  have  seen  her? — you  ordered  her?  Oh,  my 
God  I"  and  the  cry  was  one  of  heart-breaking  agony.  The 
moment  before,  the  young  wife  had  caught  one  lightning 
glance  at  mysteries  before1  dark  and  hidden.  Now  she 
caught  another  and  scarcely  less  terrible.  She  had  seen  the 
merchant  chatting  aside  with  Sarah,  when  he  supposed  him- 
self unnoticed,  before  he  went  to  England.  She  had  thought 
nothing  of  the  circumstance  then — but  now  !  Little  Pet  had 
seen  him  giving  the  girl  money,  and  he  had  taken  so  much 
pains  to  turn  off  the  conversation  at  the  table.  It  had  been 
"yellow  money,"  gold,  as  the  child  said,  after  all.  Sarah 
Sanderson  was  a  suborned  tool  of  the  merchant,  and  her 
enemy  !  She  had  obeyed  his  orders  and  left  her  mistress  to 
be  destroyed  !  Putting  aside  the  peril  of  the  present 
moment,  she  was  deserted  and  alone — had  not  one  friend  left 
in  the  city  1    Father  of  the  innocent ! — what  should  she  do  ? 

Once  before  this  time  Mary  Haviland  has  been  seen  in  a 
position  to  develop  extraordinary  strength  of  will — when 
she  -crushed  down  her  tears  and  her  regrets  and  allowed 
her  husband  to  believe  her  cheerful  when  he  went  away. 
Since  that  time  she  has  been  seen  as  showing  no  marked 
-mergy,  but  at  times  absolute  weakness.  Something  of  the 
causes  of  that  blending  of  strength  and  weakness,  may  have 
been  found  in  her  paternal  blood  of  the  llowlands  of  New 
England,  used  to  fighting  the  descendants  of  Moby  Dick  on 
the  far  Pacific,  where  nerve  and  readiness  were  life, — and 
in  the  soft,  calm,  yielding  blood  of  her  mother's  Quaker 
family.  It  was  her  first  great  peril,  and  under  iis  very  im- 
minence thought  and  determination  rose  to  meet  it — deter- 
mination in  despair  and  blindness  of  body  and  soul,  but  vet 
quick,  active  and  efficient.  One  moment  more  of  agony 
formed  her  resolution,  and  a  half  moment  more  began  to  put 
it  into  action. 

24  ' 


S86  THE       DAYS       OF       S  H  u  D  D  Y. 

Charles  Holt,  the  merchant,  had  no  doubt  been  surprised 
a  great  rnauy  times  in  his  life,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  the 
greatest  of  all  those  surprises  did  not  fall  upon  him  at  that 
time.  For  as  he  still  held  the  wrist  of  the  young  wife  and 
repeated  the  commanding  words:  "  Come  here  !"  she  turned, 
literally  threw  herself  into  his  arms,  clasped  her  own  around 
his  body,  glued  her  lips  to  his  face  and  covered  it  with  pas- 
sionate kisses!  Could  the  man  believe  his  senses?  Still 
more — could  he  believe  his  ears  the  next  moment  ?  The 
woman  was  actually  laughing  as  she  clung  to  him  with  really 
shameless  familiarity,  and  her  words  were  : 

"  Love  me,  do  you,  Charley  Holt  ?  Well,  1  wonder  if  this 
farce  has  not  been  played  far  enough  !  Why  don't  you  kiss 
me  ?     You  are  not  half  a  lover  !" 

Actually  the  man  was  so  surprised  that  he  recoiled.  It  is 
very  possible  that  for  that  one  moment  the  suspicion  struck 
him  that  this  woman  was  one  of  the  most  consummate 
actresses  in  the  world — not  only  a  false  but  a  shameless 
wife,  who  had  "  played  him"  (to  use  an  expression  that  the 
fishermen,  if  not  the  politicians,  will  understand)  in  the  dis- 
guise of  a  pure  modesty,  and  that  instead  of  being  the  winner 
he  was  really  the  victim  f  A  man  of  decidedly  exclusive 
tendencies,  especially  in  his  vices,  that  would  not  have  suited 
llis  mental  calculation  by  any  means.  He  could  defy  heaven 
and  beard  the  fiends,  to  win  what  could  not  be  won  by  ofhers 
and  should  not  have  been  by  himself;  but  what  any  other  could 
win,  however  precious,  was  chaff  before  his  breath  and  dust 
under  his  feet.  Yes,  it  must  be  said  that  at  "  Charley  Holt  ln 
and  the  flippant  use  of  the  word  "  lover,"  that  bold,  bad  man 
actually  recoiled.  He  could  not  utter  a  word.  The  tempted, 
now  apparently  become  the  temptress,  went  oh,  still  laughing, 
and  there  was  not  keenness  enough  in  the  brain  yet  a  little 
affected  by  the  fumes  of  the  wine,  to  know  how  hysterical 
that  laughter  really  was  : 

"  Why,  what  a  sober  face  you  have,  all  at  once  !  Don't 
you  love  me,  after  all  ?  I  never  saw  such  a  man  as  you  are,  in 
all  my  life  !"  and  half  a  dozen  more  kisses  rained  upon  his 
face. 

Suddenly,  and  before   the  merchant  had  yet  spoken,  she 


T  II  R      D  A  V  S      o  F      S  It  0  D  D  Y.  387 

drew  away  from  him,  went  to  the  door  leading  out  into  the 
hall  (the  other  was  shut  already)  closed  it  and  turned  the  key  ! 
After  that  movement,  the  lover  so  suddenly  outrun  in  the 
course  of  his  calculations  scarcely  needed  her  "Pray,  sit 
down,  and  excuse  me  a  moment  P  to  induce  him  to  drop  into 
the  chair  from  which  he  had  lately  risen,  and  wait  the  next 
proceeding  of  this  singular  creature.  He  followed  her  with 
his  eyes,  as  with  a  familiar  nod  and  a  smile  she  passed  through 
the  half-opened  door  into  the  little  bed-room  adjoining,  and 
there  for  the  moment  disappeared  from  his  sight,  the  door 
Btill  retaining  its  half-open  position,  lie  never  saw  her  again, 
after  the  folds  of  her  soft  evening-dress  disappeared  behind 
the  bed-room  door.  He  will  never  see  her  again,  until  that 
great  assemblage  of  all  ages  and  all  nations,  for  whose  trum- 
pet  summons  the  reverent  ear  unconsciously  keeps  listening 
over  all  the  noise  of  the  street,  the  chorus  of  the  opera,  the 
hum  of  busy  voices,  the  great  commingled  shout  of  human 
joy  and  the  still  greater  aggregate  moan  of  human  sorrow  ! 

Mary  Haviland  passed  into  that  little  bed-room,  every  nerve 
one  shudder  of  excitement  and  her  physical  and  her  mental 
systems  both  so  overtasked  that  she  was  on  the  point,  of  fall- 
ing in  a  dead  faint  on  the  floor. — reached  over  into  her  bed 
and  caught  up  the  little  girl  that  lay  slumbering  there  ;  opened 
the  door  that  led 'from  the  bed-room  into  the  hall,  with  such 
careful  fingers  that  the  slight  click  of  the  latch  did  not  sound 
above  the  painful  catching  of  her  breath  and  the  wild  beating 
of  her  heart ;  descended  the  stair  so  softly  that  if  there  was 
even  a-creak  it  did  not  reach  to  the  ear  of  the  watcher  in  the 
room  above  ;  laid  her  hand  upon  the  street-door,  started  with 
fear  when  she  found  it  locked  and  with  joy  when  she  saw  the 
glitter  of  the  key  ;  unlocked  it,  opened  it,  went  out,  closed  it 
again,  with  the  same  careful  hand  ;  and  all  unbonneted  as  she 
was.  with  no  mantle,  her  thin  slippers,  and  her  unbound  hair 
streaming  about  her  shoulders — but  with  the  child  which 
Beemed  all  that  was  left  to  her  in  the  world,  still  sleeping 
peacefully  in  her  arms, — fled  away  into  the  night  ! 

For  perhaps  five  minutes  the  merchant  retained  his  position 
in  the  chair,  waiting  for  the  return  of  the  woman  who  had  so 
puzzled  him.      Then,  hearing  no  rustle  within  and  anxious  to 


388  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

solve  the  mystery  in  one  way  or  another,  he  rose  and  went  to 
•  r.  He  looked  in.  The  door  into  the  hall  was  nearly 
wide  open,  and  the  light  from  the  burner  at  the  head  of  the 
med  into  the  room.  There  was  no  one  there  !  He 
went  to  the  bed,  of  which  the  light  covering  was  turned  down, 
and  for  some  unexplainable  reason  felt  within  it.  In  the  mid- 
dle his  hand  encountered  a  warm  spot — ti  it  of  which 
the  little  bird  had  just  been  taken.  He  said  nothing,  but  set 
his  teeth  hard  and  passed  along  the  hall  into  the  back-room. 
No  one  there.  Then  he  descended  the  stairs  and  laid  his  band 
on  the  street  door.  It  opened  at  once,  without  any  aid  of  the 
key.  He  saw  it  all.  The  door  had  been'  unlocked — the 
woman  was  gone  ! 

It  may  be  incorrect  to  say  that  the  merchant  "  saw  it  all." 
It  might  have  been  a  puzzling  study  to  see  "  all"  of  that  sin- 
gular adventure.  But  he  saw  enough.  Only  one  exclama- 
tion escaped  his  lips,  as  he  took  his  hat  from  the  little  table, 
put  it  on  his  head  and  left  the  house  with  that  peculiar  slam 
of  the  door  which  does  not  indicate  the  possession  of  an 
equable  temper.  That  exclamation  was,  slurring  a  little  gross 
profanity : 

••  Tricked  at  last,  by  all  that  is  outrageous  !" 

The  little  house  on  East  Forty-eighth  Street  was  at  last 
truly  '-alone."  Without  a  great  deal  of  concert  among  the 
members,  it  is  true,  another  family  had  "moved  away.'' 

Perhaps  fifteen  minutes  after  the  departure  of  the  mer- 
chant, Sarah  Sanderson,  who  had  been  spending  the  allotted 
time  in  gossip  with  some  of  her  companions  in  one  of  the 
neighboring  basements,  returned  to  the  house  and  admitted 
herself  with  the  pass-key,  a  little  doubtful,  all  the  while, 
whether  the  influence  of  the  merchant  would  be  quite  suffi- 
cient to  save  her  from  the  scolding  she  had  deserved  by 
bedienee.  She  found  the  light  burning,  but  no  one  in  the 
house,  and  when  she  had  called  "  Mrs.  Haviland  V*  and  ejac- 
lated,  "Where  can  she  be  ?"  to  her  satisfaction,  she  explored 
the  bedroom.  Little  Pet  was  gone,  as  well  as  her  mother ; 
and  from  the  moment  of  making  that  discovery  the  girl  was 
struck  dumb  with  horror.  She,  too,  "  saw  it  all,"  or  thought 
that  she  did  !     Mrs.  Haviland  had  eloped  with  Mr.  Holt,  or 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  389 

been  carried  off  by  him — there  could  be  no  doubt  of  it.  And 
Sarah  Sanderson,  hardened  as  she  had  been  by  the  defects  of 
In  r  early  education  and  the  wrongs  she  had  already  com- 
mitted against  her  mistress,  was  not  }ret  so  totally  lost  as  not 
to  feel  some  upbraidings  of  conscience  and  some  terrors  for 
the  future.  What  would  be  the  end  of  all  this  ?  This  she 
asked  herself,  sitting  dumb  and  stupid  in  the  room  that  Mrs. 
Haviland  had  so  lately  deserted,  and  listening,  far  into  the 
night,  to  hear  if  there  should  not  be  some  noise  at  the  door 
or  some  other  symptoms  of  her  returning.  No  sound  what- 
ever ;  and  as  the  summer  night  wore  on,  the  poor  girl  became 
so  frightened  that  she  dared  not  go  to  bed,  but  fell  uneasily 
asleep  in  her  chair,  dreaming  that  her  betrayed  mistress 
waa  being  dragged  screaming  away  by  three  men  with  masks 
over  their  faces,  while  a  fourth,  who  looked  like  Burtnett  Ilav- 
iland; was  pelting  her  (Sarah)  with  paving-stones.  One  at 
last  hit  her  on  the  side  of  the  head,  and  she  awoke  to  find 
that  it  was  daylight,  the  gas  still  burning,  and  that  she  had 
fallen  over  out  of  the  chair  and  struck  her  head  against  the 
pommel  of  another  standing  near. 

Around  the  house,  after  daylight,  the  girl  staggered  like 
one  in  a  dream.  She  was  not  more  frightened  and  worried, 
than  stunned.  It  seemed  to  her  that  all  the  world  had  turned 
topsy-turvy  in  a  night,  and  that  every  one  must  fall  off  into 
thin  air.  If  she  had  sinned,  terribly  was  she  suffering  at  that 
moment,  however  a  little  time  might  reconcile  her  to  all  her 
past  deeds  and  all  their  future  consequences.  She  called  "  Mrs. 
Ilaviland  !"  again,  from  garret  to  cellar,  and  looked  under  the 
beds.  All  that  she  discovered,  in  this  search,  was  that  the 
young  wife  had  taken  nothing  from  the  house  except  the 
clothes  in  which  she  sat — not  a  bonnet,  shawl,  and  not  even 
of  the  few  dollars  in  money  that  had  been  lying  in  a 
little  pocket-book  in  one  of  the  cupboards.  She  did  not 
know  i  perhaps  Mary  Ilaviland  did,  and  thought  of  it  before 
she  left  the  house)  that  the  merchant  had  paid  her  the  past 
week's  salary  of  her  husband,  and  that  she  had  it  in  her 
pocket  at  the  time  of  flight.  If  not  with  Mr.  Holt,  then,  she 
must  have  gone  away  penniless  ;  and  that  fact  proved,  more 
conclusively  than  any  other,  that  she  had  fled  wilh  the  mer- 


390  THE      DAY.S      OF      SHuDDV. 

chant.  St  p  ! — there  was  one  fact  yet  more  conclusive — the 
merchant  had  told  her,  weeks  before,  that  if  she  would  obey 
his  orders,  Mrs.  Haviland  should  soon  be  "  out  of  her  way'"  ; 
and  after  that  what  question  could  remain  ? 

At  last  this  loneliness  and  fear  became  unendurable.  The 
girl  well  knew  the  street  and  number  of  the  Fullerton  house, 
where  Kate  resided — though  she  had  never  been  there.  By 
ten  o'clock  that  morning,  as  a  consequence.  Kate  Haviland 
•was  informed  by  one  of  the  servants  that  a  girl  was  waiting 
below  to  see  her.  She  went  down,  ami  found  Sarah  Sander- 
son in  that  state  of  mind  and  body  that  might  have 
expected — very  confused  in  the  one,  shaky  in  the  other.  A 
few  words  revealed  the  story  which  the  girl  came  to  tell,  and 
in  which  she  by  no  means  told  all  the  truth  (that  pan. 
cially.  which  concerned  her  enforced  absence  from  the  h 
She  had  gone  to  the  grocery,  she  said — met  Mr.  Charles  Holt, 
who  told  her  he  was  going  down  to  the  house — had  bee*h 
absent  between  a  half  and  three-quarters  of  an  hour — and 
when  she  came  back,  had  found  the  house  deserted  and  all 
those  evidences  of  a  sudden  flight. 

"Bonnie  Kate  Haviland  was  "  bonnie"  no  longer  for  that 
lit.  She  looked  "  wolfish,"  to  use  a  Westernism.  She 
had  believed  some  unpleasant  things  of  her  cousins  wife  ; 
but  this — elopement  and  final  ruin — this  was  too  much  ! 
Seducer  or  seduced  (as  she  believed  them;  would  have 
fared  badly  in  her  hands  at  that  moment,  little  and  dainty  as 
they  were. 

Ten  minutes  afterwards  the  young  girl  had  her  gipsy  flat 
on  her  head  and  was  accompanying  Sarah  Sanderson  up  to 
Forty-eighth  Street.  There  was  st:;!  no  one  within  the  house, 
nor  could  any  indication  be  found  to  discredit  the  belief  of 
Sarah  that  Mary  Haviland  had  eloped  with  the  merchant — 
fleeing  with  that  suddenness  to  prevent  being  caught  by  the 
girl  on  her  return. 

By  that  afternoon's  mail  another  letter  from  Kate  Haviland 
to  her  cousin  Burtnett,  written  on  Mary's  little  writing-case 
in  her  own  parlor,  and  upon  paper  that  the  young  wife  had 
specially  designed  for  keeping  up  correspondence  with  him, — 
left   the   city  for  Alexandria   or  wherever   the  Fire  Zouaves 


THE      BAYS      OF      SHODDY.  391 

should  be  "on  service."  What  that  letter  contained,  in  the 
then  prevailing  state  of  mind  of  the  young  teacher,  may  be 
easily  imagined.  It  told  Burtnett  Haviland  that  the  night 
before,  beyond  doubt  or  hope,  his  wife  had  abandoned  her 
hope  at  a  moment's  notice  and  eloped  with  the  merchant,  his 
former  employer  ! 

Three  things  more  must  be  said  before"  the  close  of  this 
chapter.  One,  .thai  Sarah  Sanderson,  at  Kate's  suggestion, 
though  with  many  fears  and  quakihgs,  remained  in  the  aban- 
doned house,  to  "see  what,  would  turn  up,"  using  the  money 
left  behind  by  her  mistress,  to  purchase  what  food  was  neces- 
sary for  her  very  small  family.  The  second,  that  Charles 
Holt,  whether  already  for  the  time  sick  of  a  city  where  such 
disappointments  as  his  own  could  be  met  with,  or  with  some 
business  connected  with  his  "shoddy11  operations  to  transact 
at  jVashington,  left  New  York  for  the  Capital  on  Wednesday 
morning  the  nth.  The  third,, that  Kate  Haviland,  after  her 
researches  at  the  house  on  Forty-eighth  Street  and  her  ar- 
rangements for  the  subsistence  of  Sarah  Sanderson,  went, 
back  to  Mrs.  Fullerton's  and  the  care  of  those  seraphs,  Myra 
and  Mildred,  with  an  indefinite  impression  floating  about 
beneath  her  chestnut  hair,  that  all  men  were  scoundrels,  that 
all  women  were  fools,  and  that  if  any  of  the  male  sex  ever 
tried  tricks  of  that  qharacter  upon  her,  they  would  be  verv 
likelv  to  have  a  good  time  of  it  ! 


CHAPTER   XX. 

The  Battle  of  Bull  Run — The  •"  On  to  Richmond"  Cry, 
and  how  it  was  Obeyed — McDowell's  "  Grand  Army" — 
The  Advance — The  Battle  of  the  18th  July — Pause 
of  the  19th  and  20th — The  Opening  of  the  21st — Bat- 
tle of  Bull  Run  proper,  with  Sketch  of  the  Field  and 
the  Corps-Movements — The  Battle,  the  Panic  and  the 
End. 

The  history  of  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  has  never  jet  been 
so  related  as  to  clear  away  much  of  the  mystery  at  first  sur- 
rounding it  and  make  the  world  fully  aware  why  and  how 
that  thunderbolt  of  national  disaster  fell  out  of  an  apparently 
cloudless  sky — how  it  was  brought  on,  and  fought,  and  won, 
and  lost.  The  cause  of  truth  might  he  subserved,  did  space 
permit  the  writer  fully  to  avail  himself  of  the  copious  mate* 
rials  furnished,*  and  to  narrate  with  that  particularity  which 
trenches  upon  the  province  of  the  historian,  the  story  of  that. 
battle  which  has  so  much  influenced  the  national  cause  at 
home,  and  so  affected  our  name  in  arms  abroad.  The  limits, 
however,  of  this  story,  now  necessarily  approaching  its  con- 
clusion, render  impossible  any  thing  more  than  a  brief  and 

*  By  Lieut.  William  II.  White,  the  desultory  but  graphic  historian  of  the 
Mexican  War,  unquestionably  the  closest  and  most  capable  student  of  all  the 
battles  of  the  War  for  the  Union,  from  its  commencement,  and  to  whom  the 
■writer  has  before  had  the  happiness  of  avowing  bis  obligations  for  the  mate- 
rials of  the  description  of  the  battle  of  Malvern  Hill,  in  the  previous  volume 
of  this  series — "Shoulder-Straps."  Mr.  White  is  not  to  be  either  credited 
or  held  responsible  for  the  operations  of  the  Fire  Zouaves,  in  their  formation, 
campaign,  before,  during  and  after  the  battle— the  data  for  the  movements 
of  that  corps,  during  all  its  career,  being  derived  from  personal  observation, 
from  the  journals  and  letters  of  "A.  0.  A.,"  who  went  down  with  the  regiment 
as  a  fighting  newspaper-correspondent  in  the  interest  of  the  Fire  Department, 
was  captured  at  Bull  Run  and  kept  for  ten  months  a  prisoner  at  Richmond, 
Charleston  and  elsewhere, — and  from  the  relations  of  officers  and  members 
of  the  Zouave  and  other  regiments. 

392 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  393 

rapid  recapitulation  of  leading  events  and  movements  con- 
nected with  that  battle,  while  so  much  is  necessary  as  a  part 
of  the  history  of  the  time,  as  well  as  from  the  influence  pro- 
duced on  the  fortunes  of  leading  characters  in  the  narration, 
by  the  closing  events  of  the  conflict.  And  in  this  hasty  re- 
view of  the  battle,  it  must  be  understood  that  only  the  corps- 
movements  of  the  Union  troops  can  be  given,  while  the  rebels 
are  more  or  less  dealt  with  as  a  formidable  aggregate. 

"  On  to  Richmond  !"  was  the  cry.  The  seat  of  the  rebel 
government  had  been  removed  to  Richmond  from  Mont- 
gomery, and  the  belief  then  existed— first,  that  Richmond 
could  easily  be  taken  -—second,  that  to  take  Richmond  and 
capture  the  rebel  President  and  Cabinet,  would  close  the  se- 
cession. The  second  of  these  opinions  is  still  retained  when 
nearly  three  years  have  passed  since  the  first  effort;  the  first 
is  as  fresh  as"  ever  in  the  public  mind,  when  some  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  lives  have  been  sacrificed  on  the  road  ami  some 
dozens  of  the  most  gallant  reputations  in  the  nation  sent  to 
keep  them  company. 

Secretary  Seward  had  predicted  that  the  war. would  be 
over  in  three  months.  Beginning  in  April,  the  three  months 
ended  in  July.  What  was  called  a  mighty  army  lay  in  and 
around  Washington,  and  extensive  fortifications  stretched 
south-westward  over  Arlington  Heights  into  Virginia.  From 
the  beginning  the  power  and  determination  of  the  rebels  had 
been  underrated,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  nearly  or  quite 
two  thousand  cannon  and  more  than  two  hundred  thousand 
stand  of  arms  had  fallen  into  their  hands  by  theft  and  capture, 
thej  aid  to  have  "  no  weapons."     Scott,  noble,  glorious, 

but  broken  down  find  superannuated,  sat  in  his  easy-ehair  at 
his  headquarters  in  Washington,  tapped  the  maps  on  the  wall 
with  his  cane  and  scolded  the  young  officers.  Only  once  in 
a  long  period  was  he  even  able  to  ride  out  to  the  field  in  his 
carriage  and  overlook  a  few  of  the  more  important  evolutions. 
Yet  he  "commanded."  McDowell  commanded  under  him, 
doing  what  he  could  to  form  an  army  out  of  raw  materials, 
but,  as  an  old  army  officer,  painfully  aware  that  no  army  had 
as  yet  been  formed,  though  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world 
might  still  grow  up  in  the-  near  future. 


394  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

But  "  On  to  Richmond  !"  was  the  cry.  Congress,  not  doing 
mischief  enough  otherwise,  bellowed  it,  and  the  country  took 
up  the  cry.  The  radicals,  who  felt  that  some  share  of  the 
responsibility  of  the  struggle  rested  upon  them,  insisted  upon 
it ;  and  the  conservatives,  who  felt  that  the  struggle  could 
not  close  too  soon,  acknowledged  the  justice  of  the  demand. 
McDowell  was  not  ready,  but  he  must  "  go  ahead."  He  has 
not  been  the  last  man.  in  the  Union  service,  hounded  on  at 
the  wrong  time  and  undersuicidal  circumstances — then  abused 
and  underrated  for  failure.  But  enough  of  this,  and  quite 
enough  to  recall  to  recollection  what  so  many  well  remember 
when  reminded. 

Brigadier  General  Irwin  McDowell  had  a  "  grand  army" — 
so  the  journals  designated  it,  and  so  the  people  spoke  of  it. 
In  numbers  it  was  really  formidable  as  compared  with  any 
body  of  troops  that  had  before  assembled  on  this  continent  ; 
and  Gov.  Andrew's  happy  phrase  for  it,  of  "  an  aggregation 
of  town  meetings"  (to  which  allusion  may  before  have  been 
made)  had  not  yet  been  applied.  But  even  in  numbers  it 
was  contemptible,  as  compared  with  the  force  that  subsequent 
events  showed  to  be  needed,  and  as  contrasted  with  the 
hordes  that  sprung  up  on  either  side,  when  it  had  been  des- 
troyed, and  sown  in  the  Virginian  furrows  after  the  manner 
of  the  dragon's  teeth.  Let  us  for  one  moment.  In-fore  exam- 
ining what  was  done  by  this  force,  glance  at  its  numbers  and 
composition,  when  it  took  up  its  line  of  march  from  Arling- 
ton Heights  and  the  various  encampments  around  Washing- 
ton, at  3  p.m.,  on  Tuesday,  the  10th  of  July,  1861,  to  sweep 
away  the  army  of  the  rebel  Beauregard,  and  "put  an  early 
close  to  the  secession." 

At  that  early  day  a  "division"  was  the  largest  command 
in  the  service,  "corps  d'armee"  (since  better  known  among 
the  rough  wits  as  "  corps  dammee")  not  having  }^et  come  into 
use  in  the  United  States  armies.  The  Army  of  the  I'olo- 
mac  was  made  up  of  live  of  those  divisions,  each,  with  the 
exception  of  the  fourth  (or  "  reserve")  composed  of  two  or 
more  brigades.  The  reserve  was  not  subdivided  into 
brigades,  but  held  in  one  entire  command.  There  were  in 
all.  eleven  brigades,      Of  cavalry  there  were  eight  companies, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  395 

all  regulars.  There  were  twelve  regiments  of  three-months 
militia,  thirty-six  of  Volunteers  from  the  various  States,  one 
battalion  of  marines  and  another  of  foot  regulars — composing 
the  infantry  force.  The  artillery  consisted  of  fifty-five  pieces, 
light  and  heavy,  divided  into  eleven  batteries  and  one  section 
o(  two  pieces  attached  to  the  New  York  Seventy-first.  One 
of  these  batteries,  of  six  pieces,  belonging  to  the  Eighth  New 
York,  was  thrown  out  of  service  the  day  before  the  battle,  by 
the  expiration  of  the  term  of  service  of  the  members,  and 
marched  away  at  Unit  awkward  moment,  giving  rise  to  a 
piquant  charge  which  will  not  soon  be  forgotten,  of  their  hav^ 
ing  "  marched  to  the  rear  to  the  sound  of  the  enemy's  guns." 
The  whole  force  of  artillery  remaining  was  therefore  forty- 
Dine  pieces  of  all  calibres,  twenty-eight  being  rifled.  The 
batteries  were  fully  horsed  and  equipped,  but  the  section  ac- 
companying the  Seventy-first  was  drawn  by  drag- ropes 
manned  by  detachments  from  that  regiment. 

The  men,  armament  and  horses  of  the  "  grand  army"  may 
be  summed  up  briefly  thus  :  thirty-three  thousand  five  hun- 
dred infantry,  one  thousand  artillery  and  five  hundred  caval- 
ry :  thirty-five  thousand  men  of  all  arms.  Horses — artillery 
one  thousand,  and  cavalry  five  hundred — in  all  fifteen  hun-# 
dred.  Artillery,  forty-nine  pieces  ;  sabres  and  cavalry  car- 
bines, five  hundred  ;   bayonets,  thirty-three  thousand. 

The  highest  officer  in  rank  was  a  Brigadier  General.  Two 
of  the  division  commanders — Tyler  of  the  first,  and  Runyon 
of  the  fourth — were  Brigadiers,  both  belonging  to  the  three- 
months  men.  The  other  three,  Hunter,  lieintzelman  and 
Miles,  were  Colonels,  all  of  the  regular  army.  Each  of  the 
eleven  brigades  was  led  by  a  Colonel.  Four  of  these — 
Keyes,  W.  T.  Sherman,  Franklin  and  Andrew  Porter,  be- 
longed to  the  regular  service  ;  the  others.  Schenck,  Richard- 
son, Burnside,  Wilcox,  Howard,  Blenker  and  Davies,  were 
volunteers,  temporarily  detached  from  their  regiments. 

There  were  eighteen  regiments  from  New  York  ;  four  from 

Michigan  ;   two  each  from  Ohio  and  Pennsylvania;  one  from 

Minnesota  and  one  from  Wisconsin.     New  England  had  four- 

i,  of  w  hiih  Maine  sent  four,  Massachuseta  three,  Connect  i- 

<"ui  three,  Rhode  Island  two,  and  Vermont   and   New  Hamp- 


396  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

shire  each  one.  New  Jersey  had  seven  regiments,  all  in  Gon. 
Runyon's  reserve,  and  consequently  (as  well  as  very  unfor- 
tunately) never  thrown  into  the  fight,  though  a  part  of  them 
did  good  service  in  cheeking  the  retreat.  One  of  the  Penn- 
sylvania regiments,  the  Fourth,  took  the  same  view  of  the 
situation  as  that  embraced  by  the  Xew  York  battery,  and 
marched  away  when  the  conflict  was  actually  beginning. 
This,  with  the  reserve  subtracted,  left  the  advancing  army 
with  only- forty-one  regiments,  or  less  than  thirty  thousand 
men  of  all  arms. 

On  the  17th,  McDowell  entered  Fairfax  Court-IIouse  and 
drove  the  rebels  towards  Centreville  and  Manasses,  making 
some  unimportant  captures  of  material,  but  the  South  Caro- 
lina troops  who  had  previously  held  that  place,  escaping. 
The  pursuit  was  not  pushed  beyond  Centreville,  owing  to  the 
early  exhaustion  of  the  raw  troops. 

•  On  the  morning  of  the  18th,  the  situation  of  the  various 
commands  was  as  follows  :  Tyler's  first  division  at  Centreville ; 
Hunter's  second  at  Fairfax  Court-House  ;  Heintzelman's  third 
at  Sangster's  and  Fairfax  Stations ;  Runyon's  fourth  in  reserve ; 
and  Miles's  Fifth  between  Fairfax  Court-House  and  Station. 

Each  of  the  brigades  encountered  obstructions  on  the  march, 
from  trees  felled  across  the  roads  and  other  incumbrances, 
that  were  yet  easily  removed  by  the  axemen  of  the  commands. 
The  pioneers,  however,  had  no  power  to  sweep  away  the 
Virginian  forests,  fill  up  Virginian  swamps  or  level  the  face 
of  the  country  ;  and  obstructions  to  advance  a  thousand  times 
more  serious  were  found  eventually  in  those  peculiarities  of 
the  "Old  Dominion." 

Richardson's  brigade  of  Tyler's  division  passed  on  through 
Centreville  and  advanced  towards  Bull  Run  Valley.  At  noon 
Gen.  Tyler  commenced  a  reconnoisance  in  force,  with  this  brig- 
ade, consisting  of  the  Twelfth  Xew  York,  First  Massachu- 
setts and  Second  and  Third  Michigan — all  volunteers  ;  Ayres' 
battery  and  two  companies  of  cavalry.  This  force,  moving  up 
the  Run  through  troublesome  timber,  near  Blackburn's  Ford, 
two  and  a  half  miles  from  Centreville,  came  upon  a  strong 
rebel  force,  and  the  first  hostilities  were  commenced  by  Ayres, 
with  a  vigorous  reply  from  the  rebels,  who  had  the  advantage 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  397 

of  shelter.  The  eventual  result  of  this  skirmish  was  that  the 
Federal  troops  were  virtually  repulsed,  (the  Twelfth  New 
York,  Col.  Walrath,  behaving  badly) — and  that  after  a  vigor- 
ous shelling  of  the  woods  by  Ayres,  Richardson  fell  back  in 
good  order  upon  Centreville.  The  Federal  loss  in  this  opening 
fight  was  perhaps  one  hundred  in  killed,  wounded  and 
ing. 

Friday  the  19th  and  Saturday  the  20th,  though  with  heavy 
skirmishes  on  both  days,  were  principally  employed  in  re- 
connoisances,  the  body  of  the  Federal  army  remaining  quietly 
in  camp  in  the  various  positions  taken  on  the  17th  and  18th. 
The  rebels  who  had  been  driven  from  Fairfax  Court-House, 
Germantown,  Centreville  and  other  points  in  the  neighborhood, 
during  those  two  days  of  fatal  delay  joined  the  main  body 
under  Beauregard,  strongly  posted  on  the  formidable  range  of 
hills  near  Manasses.  Naturally  a  very  strong  position,  this 
had  been  further  strengthened  by  miles  of  earthworks  and 
acres  of  that  formidable  obstruction  ><>  well  known  to  military 
men  as  abattis  ;  while  thick  woods  so  screened  their  works 
on  the  crests  and  sides  of  the  hills  that  it  required  the  sharp- 
est scrutiny,  even  when  close  upon  them,  to  discover  their 
precise  locality  before  suffering  the  worst  results  of  their 
presence. 

Beauregard  was  evidently  informed  in  good  time  of  the 
determination  of  McDowell  to  advance  upon  Manasses, — 
through  some  one  of  the  many  ramifications  of  that  treachery 
which  paralyzed  all  the  Union  movements  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  war,  and  has  ever  since  so  sadly  crippled  them. 
He  was  thus  enabled  to  withdraw  his  troops  from  the 
Northern  side  of  Bull  Run,  in  time  to  escape  McDowell's 
skilfully-planned  and  well-executed  attempt  to  effect  their 
capture.  The  precautionary  spirit  of  that  officer,  leading  him 
even  to  cheek  by  a  lift  of  the  finger  the  cheers  about  to  break 
from  the  troops  as  he  rode  through  them  at  Centreville,  for 
fear  of  the  noise  that  might  thus  be  created, — was  of  little  use 
when  rebel  spies  and  traitors  lurked  at  every  corner,  ready  to 
betray  each  successive  movement  1 

Bull  Run,  insignificant  then  and  now  in  size,  unknown  then 
except   to  the   dwellers   in   its    neighborhood,   but   now   as 


898  T  H  S       DAYS      OF      B^ODdT. 

historic  as  tbe  Danube  or  the  Tiber, — is  a  small  stream  having 
its  source  in  the  Bull  Run  Mountains,  flowing  in  a  direction 
generally  South-east,  and  falling  into  the  Ocoquan  about  three 
and  a  half  leagues  from  the  junction  of  the  latter  stream 
with  the  Potomac.  Narrow  in  width,  it  is  usually  very  low 
in  the  dry  weather  of  summer,  but  in  winter  almost  always 
and  anfordable.  At  times,  even  in  summer,  heavy  rains 
and  their  consequent  freshets  swell  it  within  a  few  hours  so 
that-  the  fords  are  rendered  impassable.  The  country,  on 
either  side,  is  thickly  wooded  and  hopelessly  broken,  making 
it  rhe  most  troublesome  of  barriers  to  an  armed  advance  in 
the  lace  of  defences  so  easily  thrown  up  on  the  surrounding 
hills. 

Manasses  is  seven  miles  distant  in  a  South-west  direction 
from  Centreville ■;  and  the  latter  is  a  small  village  of  a  few 
straggling  houses,  lying  on  a  ridge  of  hills  taking  a  direction 
nearly  North  and  South.  The  Centreville  and  Ma:, 
road  runs  along  this  ridge  and  crossing  Bull  Run  at 
Mitchell's  Ford,  abont  eqni-distant  between  the  two  villages. 
The  Warrenton  turnpike  runs  nearly  East  and  West  over  the 
ridge,  through  Centreville,  and  crosses  Bull  Run  some  four 
miles  from  that  village,  at  the  Stone  Bridge,  first  passing  over 
one  of  its  tributaries,  Cub  Run,  by  a  bridge  of  mason-work 
two  miles  west  of  Centreville  ; — the  latter  and  smaller  stream 
falling  into  Bull  Run  about  half  way  between  the  Stone 
Bridge  and  Blackburn's  Ford  That  ford  is  nearly  South- 
east of  Centreville,  distant  abont  three  miles,  and  the  lowest 
down-stream  of  any  near  the  scene  of  action.  Passing  up- 
stream, the  next  is  Mitchell's  Ford  ;  then  the  Stone  Bridge — ■ 
each  at  the  distance  of  about  one  mile.  Another  ford  one 
and  a  half  miles  above  the  Stone  Bridge,  and  still  another  at 
Sudley's  Springs,  ten  miles  North-West  of  Centreville.  This 
brief  view  of  the  ground  partially  or  altogether  covered  by 
the  battle,  may  do  at  least  something  to  make  intelligible  the 
movements  rapidly  following. 

The  original  purpose  of  Gen.  McDowell  had  been  to  turn 
the  rebel  position  on  their  right,  but  a  reconnoisance  in  person 
conviced  him  that  such  a  movement  was  impracticable  ;  and 
the  affair  of  the   18th   stamped   as  equally  futile  an   intended 


T  H  K      PAYS      OF      SHOPDT.  399 

attempt  to  cross  at  Blackburn's  Ford,  which  would  bring  his 
forces  directly  in  front  of  the  rebel  main  position  at  Manas- 
Bes.  The  only  alternative  remaining  was  to  turn  the  enemy's 
extreme  left  Hunter's  and  Heintzelman's  divisions  were 
irdingly  put  under  orders  to  cross  at  Sudley's  and  the 
ford  below  ;  Tyler's  to  threaten  the  Warrenton  turnpike  by  the 
Si  one  Bridge,  leaving  Richardson's  brigade  to  watch  Black- 
burn's Ford  againBt  a  possible  attempl  bo  flank  by  the  rebels; 
.Miles,  sending-  one  brigade  to  Richardson,  with  the  remain- 
der to  occupy  the  heights  at  Centreville,  in  reserve.  The 
plan  was  to  cross  at  the  upper  fords,  less  strongly  defended 
because  the  enemy  had  been  expecting  an  attack  on  his  right 
— press  down  to  the  Stone  Bridge  before  reinforcements 
could  bo  thrown  there,  form  a  junction  with  Tyler's  division 
crossing  there,  strike  the  enemy's  flank,  .then  turn  to  the 
right  and  force  his  left,  attacking  his  rear  and  destroying  the 
railroad  leading  down  to  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  where  a 
heavy  force  was  know  to  be  concentrated.  The  rebels, 
meanwhile,  wore  really  in  force  at  all  the  fords  except  Sud- 
ley's  ;  and  the  Stone  Bridge  was  strongly  defended  by 
artillery  and  thick  abattis. 

The  various  columns  were  directed  to  move  from  their 
camps  at  half-past  two  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Sunday, 
July  21st.  Tyler  marched  out  on  the  Warrenton  turnpike  at 
the  time  designated,  and  arrived  in  front  of  the  Stone  Bridge 
at  six.  His  force  then  consisted  of  Schenck's  and  Sherman's 
brigades,  with  Ayres'  and  Carlisle's  batteries.  After  posting 
his  troops  and  examining  the  position,  Tyler  fired  the  first 
gun  of  theimttle  proper  of  Bull  Run,  at  half-past  six,  elicit- 
ing no  response,  and  leaving  the  question  an  open  one 
whether  the  rebels  'did  not  themselves  intend  to  attack  by  a 
flank  movement  at  Blackburn's  Ford. 

Hunter's  division  had  meanwhile  followed  Tyler  by  the 
same  road  until  Cub  Run  was  crossed,  then  wheeled  to  the 
right  and  moved  Xorth  towards  Sudley's  Ford.  Heintzel- 
man's division  broke  camp  at  the  same  time,  but  was  blocked 
for  three  hours  by  Hunter  being  in  the  way,  near  ( Vnt  reville. 
He  then  followed  Hunter  across  Cub  Run,  and  wheeled  to  the 
left  for  the  ford   next  below  Sudley's;   but  no  such  road  as 


400  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

that  reported  by  the  scouts  was  found  to  exist  there,  and  the 
division  wae  pushed  on  to  Sudley's  Kurd. 

During  the  march  of  the  two  columns  dense  clouds  of  dust 
rising  in  the  direction  of  Ma  :   and  before  the 

head  of  Hunter's  division  reached  Dudley's,  a  heavy  body  of 
rebels  was  seen  at  the  distance  of  a  mile,  advancing-  to  meet 
the  expected  attack.  The  leading  brigade  of  Hunter,  Burn- 
•hed  the  ford  at  half-past  nine,  when  intelligence 
was  received  that  the  enemy  was  in  furce  in  front.  Even  at 
this  early  hour  the  heat  of  the  July  morning  began  to  be 
oppressive,  and  the  thick  clouds  of  dust  rising  from  every 
direction  not  only  obscured  the  view,  in  advance  of  the  smoke 
of  battle,  but  caused  intolerable  suffering  among  the  Union 
forces,  as  it  no  doubt  must  have  done  among  those  of  the 
enemy. 

A  brief  halt  for  rest  and  water — too  brief,  in  the  already 
exhausted  condition  of  the  troops — and  Bumside  pushed  for- 
ward, the  Second  Rhode  Island  crossing  first,  throwing  out 
skirmishers  to  the  front  and  on  both  flanks.  These  were  met 
in  a  few  moments  by  those  of  the  enemy,  firing  commenced, 
the  main  body  of  the  regiment  fell  into  line  of  battle,  the 
battery  wheeled  into  position  and  opened  fire,  and  the  battle 
of  Bull  Run  commenced  in  earnest. 

The  ground  over  which  Burnside  moved  was  thickly 
wooded  and  hilly,  for  about  a  mile  between  the  Sudley  road 
arid  the  Run  ;  on  the  other  side,  or  right  of  the  road,  it  was 
for  an  equal  distance  divided  between  fields,  hills  and  woods. 
A  mile  South  from  the  Run  the  country  on  both  sides  of  the 
road  was  more  open  ;  and  still  farther  .beyond,  large  rolling 
fields  extended  a  mile  or  more  to  the  Warrantee  road.  A 
small  tributary  of  Bull  Run.  fringed  with  thick  woods,  crossed 
the  battle-field  ;  and  in  the  valley  of  this  water-course,  at  that 
point,  ran  the  Warrenton  turnpike.  While  the  Second  Rhode 
Island  was  there  engaging,  the  remainder  of  the  brigade 
formed  on  the  right  of  the  road. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Col.  Hunter,  pressing  forward 
with  the  advance,  was'severely  wounded  and  obliged  to  leave 
the  field,  his  command  falling  upon  Col.  Andrew  Porter  of  the 
First   Brigade.      The    Second    Rhode    Island    became    hard 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  401 

pressed,  and  the  Second  New  Hampshire,  the  First  Rhodo 
Island  and  Seventy-first  New  York  went  forward  to  their 
support,  the  First  Rhode  Island  coming  into  position  first, 
owing  to  greater  celerity  in  forming.  The  Second  Rhode 
Island  bad  gallantly  hold  its  own  and  even  forced  the  enemy 
back  for  a  short  distance,  though  Col.  Slocum  was  killed, 
Major  Ballou  badly  wounded,  and  the  regiment  under  com- 
mand of  Lt.  Col.  Wheaton.  Col.  Martin  led  the  Seventy- 
first  New  York  splendidly  into  action,  planted  his  two 
Dahlgren  boat-bowitzers,  and  worked  them  most  effectually. 
The  battery  of  the  Second  Rhode  Island,  Capt.  Reynolds, 
meanwhile  did  heavy  service,  nearly  silencing  some  of  the 
rebel  batteries  masked  in  the  woods  at  the  right,  and  driving 
back  six  regiments  thrown  forward  to  force  that  position. 
The  Second  ^ew  Hampshire  came  into  action  and  fought 
well,  though  Col.  Martin  was  early  wounded  and  the  regiment 
fell  under  the  able  command  of  Lt.  Col.  Fiske.  The  whole 
of  Burnside's  force  was  now  under  lire,  and  Col.  Porter's  first 
brigade  was  ordered  up  to  his  support. 

The  enemy,  at  this  time,  was  drawn  up  in  a  line  extending 
along  the  Warrenton  road,  from  a  house  of  some  size  and 
half  a  dozen  hay-stacks  fronting  the  extreme  Federal  right, 
to  a  smaller  house  lying  a  little  beyond  the  left  of  the  divi- 
sion. A  rebel  battery  was  masked  behind  the  first  of  these 
houses,  others  akmg  the  lines ;  and  a  thin  wood  partially  in 
front  of  their  right  gave  shelter  to  that  wing,  while  shrubbery 
and  fences  screened  their  centre  and  left. 

Griffin's  battery  opened  a  deadly  fire  upon  the  batteries  on 
the  rebel  left,  and  not  only  silenced  or  drove  them  back,  but 
threw  that  wing  into  confusion.  The  right  of  Porter's  bri- 
gade was  now  thrown  forward,  including  the  marines  under 
Major  Reynolds  ;  the  Twenty-seventh  New  York  Volunteers, 
Col.  Slocum ;  the  Fourteenth  Brooklyn,  Col.  Wood ;  the 
Eighth  New  York,  Col.  Lyons  ;  and  Major  Palmer's  seven 
companies  of  cavalry  in  the  rear.  These  troops  went  gal- 
lantly forward,  and  the  enemy  fell  back  in  some  disorder  ;  at 
the  same  time  that  Burnside  was  pouring  the  fiercest  of  his 
attack  on  the  rebel  right,  still  clinging  to  its  protecting  wood3 
with  great  tenacity.  The  Second  Rhode  Island  battery  being 
25 


402  THE       DAYS      UF      SHODDY. 

hard  pressed  in  its  turn,  Sykes'  regulars  were  sent  to  its 
assistance,  dashed  in  under  a  terrible  fire  and  delivered 
gering  volleys  into  the  very  face  of  the  enemy.  At  this 
moment  Burnside  succeeded  in  breaking  the  rebel  right  and 
driving  them  from  the  shelter  of  the  woods.  They  came 
flying  towards  the  Federal  right,  and  their  discomfiture  was 
completed  by  a  withering  fire  from  the  New  York  Twenty- 
seventh.  But  Col.  Slocum  of  that  regiment  (the  second  of 
that  name  cut  down  on  the  field)  was  now  badly  wounded, 
the  rebels  fought  with  the  ferocity  of  desperation,  and  the  aid 
of  the  Xew  York  Eighth  and  Fourteenth,  sent  to  reinforce 
the  Twenty-seventh  and  cut  them  off.  came  too  late  or  proved 
too  feeble,  and  the  broken  right  of  the  enemy  at  last  got  into 
shelter  in  safety. 

At  this  time,  eleven  o'clock,  a.m.,  the  heat  of  the  day  had 
so  culminated  that  severe  and  almost  unendurable  suffering 
commenced  in  both  armies  ;  and  those  engaged,  fond  of 
American  history,  began  to  appreciate,  better  than  ever 
before,  the  suffering  said  to  have  been  experienced  on  the  day 
of  Monmouth.  From  whatever  "shoddy''  mismanagement 
many  of  the  Federal  troops  had  received  no  food  that  morn- 
ing ;  not  one-tenth  of  their  canteens  were  filled  with  water 
or  had  been  during  the  march  ;  the  sun  poured  down  rays 
that  seemed  direct  emanations  from  the  gery  furnace  ;  tin- 
dust  choked,  the  smoke  blinded  ;  and  the  raw  troops  certainly 
had  good  reason  to  feel  that  their  first  baptism  in  the  terrible 
reality  of  war  was  to  be  an  effectual  one.  Poor  fellow^  ! — . 
'many  of  them  came  to  think,  before  the  conclusion  of  that 
day,  that  their  position  at  eleven  in  the  morning,  unenviable 
as  it  was,  had  been  rather  desirable  than  otherwise,  in  com- 
parison ! 

The  head  of  Heintzelman's  delayed  division  (which  in- 
cluded the  Fire  Zouaves)  reached  Sudlev's  Ford  at  that  hour. 
Gen.  McDowell  was  by  that  time  at  the  front,  and  ordered 
lleintzelman  to  send  forward  two  regiments  to  prevent  the 
flanking  of  the  troops  already  engaged.  Heintzelman  threw 
forward  the  First  Minnesota,  Col.  Gorman,  to  the  left  of  the 
road,  and  the  Eleventh  Massachusetts,  Col.  Clarke,  directly 
up  it,      He  accompanied  the  Massachusetts  regiment  in  per- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SIIuDDY.  403 

Fon,  and  placed  it  in  position.  Tlio  rest  of  the  division 
followed  close,  with  the  exception  of  Arnold's  battery  and  its 
supports  formed  of  part  of  Heintzelman's  second  brigade. 
Hie  first,  under  Franklin,  was  formed  of  the  First  Minnesota, 
Col.  Gorman  ;  Fifth  Massachusetts,  Col.  Lawrence  ;  and  the 
Eleventh  Massachusetts,  Col.  Clarke.  His  second,  under 
Wilcox,  comprised  the  First  and  Fourth  Michigan,  Lt.  Col. 
Cnnstock  and  Col.  Woodbury  ;  the  Eleventh  New  5Tork 
(Fire  Zouaves),  Col.  Farnham  ;  and  the  Thirty-eighth  New 
York  (Scott  Life  Guards),  Col.  J.  H.  Hobart  Ward.  His 
third,  under  Howard,  numbered  the  Third,  Fourth  and  Fifth 
Maine,  Cols.  Tucker,  Berry  and  Dunnels  ;  and  the  Second 
Vermont,  Col.  St.  Clair. 

The  line  of  high  ground  beyond  the  Warrenton  road, 
before  spoken  of,  running  from  the  house  with  haystacks  on 
the  hill  west  of  the  Sudley  road,  to  another  hill  more  than 
half  a  mile  to  the  east  of  the  road,  was  at  this  time  the 
particular  object  of  the  Federal  attack,  the  first  mentioned 
point  yet  more  especially.  Ricketts'  battery  was  to  take  part 
in  this  attack,  and  took  position  within  a  thousand  feet  of  the 
enemy's  batteries. 

Tyler's  first  division  had  meanwhile  been  busy.  As  soon 
as  the  divisions  of  Hunter  and  Heintzelman  were  fairly  en- 
gaged, the  brigades  of  Sherman  and  Keyes  (at  about  noon) 
were  sent  across  the  Run  by  a  ford  just  discovered  below  the 
Bridge.  Sherman's  brigade,  in  the  advance,  consisted  of  the 
Sixty-ninth  and  Seventy-ninth  New  York,  Cols.  Corcoran 
and  Cameron;  the  Thirteenth  New  York  Volunteers,  Col. 
Quimby  ;  and  the  Second  Wisconsin,  Lt.  Col.  Peck.  Keyes, 
on  the  left,  commanded  the  First,  Second  and  Third  Con- 
necticut, Cols.  Burnham,  Terry  and  Ohatfield  ;  and  the 
Second  Maine,  Col.  Jameson. 

Sherman,  after  crossing,  ascended  the  steep  bluff  on  the 
opposite  side  without  molestation,  the  Sixty-ninth  New 
York  leading.  No  artillery  accompanied  the  column,  from 
the  impossibility  of  crossing  it  by  the  ford.  Here  he  eneoun- 
fcered  a  body  of  the  retreating  enemy,  but  a  few  momenta 
after,  under  the  shelter  of  a  cluster  of  pines  near  the  bank; 
aiid  it  was  in  riding  rashly  forward  to  intercept  the  retreat, 


404  r  IT  K      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

that  the  gallant  Lt.  Col.  Haggerty,  of  the  Sixty-ninth,  was 
shot  down  by  a  rebel  marksman  at  short  range  and  in  full 
view  of  his  regiment.  Firing  on  both  sides  followed,  but 
Sherman  was  intent  upon  forming  a  speedy  junction  with 
Hunter,  and  his  forces  pushed  on  towards  the  field  where  the 
two  divisions  were  already  hotly  engaged.  Reaching  the  field 
he  formed  in  the  rear  of  Porter's  brigade,  and  joined  in  the 
pursuit  of  the  rebels,  then  falling  back  to  the  left  of  the  Smi- 
ley road.  Quimby's  Thirteenth  were  in  the  advance,  followed 
in  their  order  by  the  Second  Wisconsin,  Seventy-ninth  and 
Sixty-ninth  New  York.  Quimby's  regiment  advanced  steadily 
down  the  hill,  across  the  road  and  up  the  further  slope  to  the 
top  of  the  ridge  lately  occupied  by  the  enemy,  from  which 
it  opened  fire  upon  them  in  their  new  and  favorable  position. 
Quimby  continued  his  advance  and  the  rebels  retreated,  until 
they  reached  a  point  where  the  heat  of  the  conflict  had  been 
raging  against  Heintzelman  and  Bicketts'  battery  severely 
cut  up.  The  other  regiments  of  the  brigade  followed,  in 
good  order  though  under  a  severe  cannonading  from  the 
rebel  pieces  on  the  ridge  ;  and  sheltered  for  a  moment  under 
the  banks  of  the  deep  roadway  from  the  terrible  fire  of  artil- 
lery and  musketry  pouring  down  the  ridge,  as  they  prepare 
to  dash  over  the  crest  and  engage  in  some  of  the  most 
splendid  fighting  of  the  day, — they  must  be  left  for  the  time, 
while  we  trace  the  fortunes  of  the  gallant  brigade  of  Keyes. 

This  brigade  crossed  Bull  Run,  closed  well  up  to  Sherman's 
left,  some  eight  hundred  yards  above  the  Stone  Bridge.  Af- 
ter crossing,  Keyes  marched  at  once  up  the  opposite  slope  and 
formed  on  Sherman's  left.  In  a  few  moments  this  brigade, 
now  forming  the  extreme  left  of  the  entire  army  engaged, 
came  into  conflict  with  a  strong  body  of  rebel  cavalry  sup- 
sported  by  infantry,  and  drove  them  with  heavy  loss.  Its  own 
course  was  finally  arrested  by  a  severe  fire  from  a  cluster  of 
buildings  standing  on  the  heights  above  the  Warrenton  road. 
The  second  Maine  and  Third  Connecticut  were  ordered  to 
assault  the  position,  which  proved  for  the  moment  a  Chew's 
House  or  Hoguemont  against  their  advance.  They  performed 
that  duty  splendidly,  under  a  deadly  fire  from  a  rebel  battery 
of  eio-ht  and  a  strong  body  of  infantry, — carried  the  buildings 


THE      DAYS      OF      SUOUDY.  405 

and  held  them  for  a  time.  Then,  finding  those  buildings  in 
turn  commanded  by  a  battery  on  the  heights  behind,  they 
marched  by  the  left  lank  from  the  heights  across  an  open 
field  to  the  shelter  of  the  banks  of  Bull  Run,  half  a  mile  be- 
low. Up  this  ravine  the  whole  brigade  pressed,  with  a  view 
of  turning  a  rebel  battery  which  commanded  the  Warrenton 
road  at  Stone  Bridge.  This  diversion  caused  the  enemy  to 
rcii re  from  that  point,  and  gave  Capt.  Alexander,  of  the  en- 
gineers, an  opportunity,  gallantly  embraced,  of  crossing  the 
bridge,  cutting  away  the  abattis  and  making  way  for  the  pas- 
sage over  of  Schenck's  brigade,  with  Ay  res1  and  Carlisle's 
batteries,  thus  brought  to  participate  in  the  action.  But  the 
rebel  battery  only  limbered  up  and  moved  to  a  new  position, 
from  which  it  kept  up  a  galling  fire.  Keyes  skilfully  ma- 
noeuvred his  force  out  of  that  unsafe  position,  by  a  flank 
movement  around  the  base  of  a  sheltering  hill,  came  to  a 
front,  advanced  a  hundred  yards  and  prepared  to  charge  up 
the  hill  and  capture  the  troublesome  battery. 

But  by  that  time  symptoms  of  disaster  to  the  Federal  right 
became  palpable,  and  Gen.  Tyler  ordered  Keyes  to  face  by 
the  right  flank,  file  to  the  right,  recross  the  Run,  and  join  the 
main  body  of  the  Federal  troops,  already  in  full  retreat. 

It  is  at  this  juncture  necessary  once  more  to  leave  the  left 
and  return  to  the  right  and  centre,  last  seen  in  preparation  for 
those  desperate  and  final  charges  on  the  long  ridge  held  by 
the  enemy  on  the  hill  west  of  the  Sudley  road,  which  were  to 
decide  the  whole  event  of  the  battle. 

Three  times  the  forces  left  in  that  position  assaulted  that 
Hdge  bristling  with  musketry  and  pouring  down  (me  contin- 
uous rain  of  the  most  deadly  missiles  known. to  modern  war- 
fire — the  defenders  half  hidden  behind  formidable  obstruc- 
tions at  every  point  of  the  line:  the  assailants  unsheltered 
and  convenient  marks  for  all  that  rebel  valor  driven  to  des- 
peration could  pour  down  upon  them.  Veteran  troops  have 
recoiled  under  less  discouraging  circumstances  than  those  in 
which  the  worn-out  and  sweltering  soldiers  of  the  Union 
staggered  up  to  that  assault,  beneath  the  blazing  sun  of  the 
early  midsummer  afternoon,  unfed,  athirst  and  doubtful  of  the 
capacity  of  many  of  their  commanders  :   literally   raw  levies 


406  THE      DAYS      OF      SHuDDY. 

might  have  been  excused  if  they  had  scarcely  attempted  the 
assault  at  all.  Sad  to  say  that  human  justice  is  BO  uncertain  ! 
— the  relations  of  the  panic  of  that  afternoon,  which  have 
ever  since  filled  the  land  and  been  wafted  far  and  w 

the  Atlantic,  have  been  unaccompanied  by  any  reminder  how 
nobly  those  very  men  fought  when  there  was  yet  one  hope  or 
one  chance  of  victory  ! 

Three  times  that  assault  was  made.  Twice  it  was  repulsed. 
The  third  time,  nothing  could  stand  before  the  ill-regulated 
but  desperate  courage  of  the  assailants.  The  rebel  lines 
wavered — they  gave  way — they  broke  :  and  foot  by  foot  the 
Federals  pressed  them  backwards.  Still  further — away  from 
the  hill  and  so  far  down  and  beyond  it  that  they  were  liter- 
ally hidden  from  sight, — the  rebels  were  forced  backwards. 
To  all  appearances  the  central  position  was  swept — the  field 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  Federal  forces — the  day  was  won  ! 
No  thought  of  hunger  or  fatigue,  then  !  Fatigue  was  for- 
gotten in  the  thought  of  victory  :  hunger  was  filled  in  that 
most  glorious  of  banquets  at  which  the  soldier  sits  down  with 
bravery  as  his  warrant,  and  feasts  with  the  gods  in  the  con- 
58  of  developed  power. 

A  few  moments  of  triumph,  then  doubt,  to  be  followed  by 
despair.  Dense  clouds  of  dust  arose  in  the  West  and  North- 
west, far  beyond  the  point  to  which  the  main  body  of  the 
rebels  had  been  driven.  Then  the  head  of  their  column  ad- 
vanced again — so  lately  broken,  now  broken  no  longer,  but 
closed  up  and  threatening,  and  evidently  reinforced!  Xo 
military  eye  but  saw  the  omen  too  plainly.  Fresh  rebel 
troops  had  arrived  :  whence,  none  could  tell,  but  whence  was 
really  a  matter  of  little  consequence.  Not  a  few — uot  a 
brigade  or  even  a  division,  but  thousand  upon  thousand  ! — ab- 
solutely what  seemed  to  be  an  army  quite  as  large  as  their 
own,  of  rebel  reinforcements.  They  could  not  know,  what 
the  country  and  the  whole  world  knew  too  soon — that  Gen- 
eral Joe  Johnston,  the  very  ablest  and  most  dangerous  of 
the  rebel  commanders,  with  twenty  or  twenty-five  thousand 
troops,  had  been  allowed  to  slip  away  from  the  force  intended 
to  hold  them  in  check  if  not  to  bring  them  into  actual  engage- 
ment, near  Winchester,  and  to  reach  that  hard-ioughten  held 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  407 

at  the  very  moment  when  the  worst  could  be  done  by  those 
troops  for  the  cause  of  the  nation  and  for  humanity. 

The  story  of  the  battle  proper,  after  this  point  was  reached, 
is  all  too  briefly  told,  though  some  of  the  most  desperate 
fighting  of  the  day  took  place  after  the  arrival  of  the  rebel 
reinforcements.  What  Washington  fell  when  be  saw  the  Inst 
hope  of  his  campaign  of  1770-7.  destroyed  by  the  pouring  of 
an  overpowering  British  force  against  his  exhausted  troops 
at  the  close  of  the  day  of  the  battle  of  Long  Island — what 
Napoleon  felt  when  he  saw  that  the  long  line  of  troops  ad- 
vancing to  Waterloo,  by  Wavres.  were  those  of  Blucher  in- 
stead of  Grouchy — something  like  this  must  have  been  ex- 
perienced, in  however  less  a  degree,  by  McDowell  and  the 
other  officers  who  with  him  saw  the  imminence  of  the  danger 
and  the  probability  of  ruin. 

A  fourth  time  the  rebel  force  poured  forward  to  the  ridge, 
now  overwhelming  in  numbers  and  Hushed  with  a  certainly 
of  victory.  Franklin's  brigade,  of  the  First  Minnesota,  Fifth 
and  Eleventh  Massachusetts,  met  the  first  shock  with  great 
gallantry,  unavailing  as  that  gallantry  eventually  proved. 
The  enemy  regained  the  ridge,  and  now  held  it  against  all 
attempts  to  dislodge  them.  Col.  "Wilcox's  brigade,  on  the  left 
of  Franklin,  met  the  heaviest  of  this  shock,  but  in  the  more 
particular  account  yet  to  be  given  of  the  special  fortunes  of 
the  Fire  Zouaves,  the  fate  of  that  brigade  is  involved.  Heintz- 
elman  led  forward  several  of  the  regiments  of  this  command, 
in  person,  in  support  of  different  batteries,  and  they  were 
broken  one  by  one — a  point  of  military  policy  which  will  al- 
ways remain  a  question.  And  here  occurred  another  of  those 
blunders  in  identity,  which  have  before  been  alluded  to  as  so 
fated  during  the  war.  The  First  Minnesota  and  a  rebel 
brigade  mutually  mistook  each  other,  from  the  fact  that  the 
rebel  uniform  and  that  of  many  of  our  militia,  was  the  same 
—black- trimmed  gray;  and  they  were  close  together  and 
the  rebels  partially  sheltered  within  a  belt  of  timber  above 
the  road,  before  the  mistake  was  discovered.  In  the  deadly 
fire  which  then  opened,  almost  into  each  other's  faces,  the 
Minnesota  troops,  sadly  outnumbered,  were  Literally  cut  to 
pieces,  Ricketts'  batter?  wa.--  cut  up  and  disabled,  ami  Heiutz- 


408  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

elman  was  wounded  in  the  arm,  though  he  did  not  leave  the 

field. 

All   the    regiments   of  Wilcox's   brigade   suffered   terribly 

here- not  only  the  Fire  Zouaves,  but  the  First  and  Fourth 

Michigan — both  the  latter  doing  duty  nobly  long  after  they 
were  broken.  The  last  but  best  regiment  of  this  brigade,  the 
]$ew  York  Thirty-eighth  Volunteers  of  Col.  J.  EL  llobart 
Ward,  held  their  ground  manfully,  once  drove  the  rebels  en- 
tirely in  their  attack  on  Bicketts'  battery,  but  were  finally 
driven  back  and  scattered  by  a  force  beyond  human  power  to 
resist  It  was  in  attempting  to  make  a  last  rally  of  this  bri- 
gade that  Col.  Wilcox,  lighting  determinedly,  was  taken  by 
the  rebels,  afterwards  to  supply  one  of  the  most  notable 
prisoners  to  the  dens  at  Richmond. 

Howard's  brigade,  on  the  left  of  Wilcox,  now  suffered  terri- 
bly in  the  assaults  of  the  enemy  upon  Griffin's  battery.  Of 
this  brigade,  the  Fourth  Maine,  Colonel  Barry,  showed  in- 
domitable courage  and  extraordinary  discipline,  and  did  not 
lose  its  organization  for  a  moment,  even  when  under  the  dead- 
liest fire  and  actually  decimated.  The  Fourteenth  Brooklyn 
fought  nobly  for  a  time,  but  that  regiment  had  yet  to  win  its 
after-glorious  reputation,  and  they  too  broke  after  a  time  and 
went  to  the  rear.  In  the  attempt  to  rally  them,  the  gallant 
Colonel  Wood  was  severely  wounded  and  supplied  the  rebels 
with  their  second  captured  Union  Colonel.  In  attempted 
support  of  Griffin's  battery,  too,  the  marines,  a  battalion  of 
the  Twenty-seventh  New  York  under  Major  Bartlett.  and  the 
Eighth  New  York  State  Militia,  were  all  ordered  up.  The 
Eighth  gave  evidence  of  courage  and  determination  to  fight, 
but  a  part  of  their  field  was  miserably  inefficient  if  not  basely 
cowardly,  and  they  were  soon  broken  and  more  than  half  the 
time  left  without  a  regimental  officer  in  command.  Once  the 
Quartermaster,  Lieut.  Cornell,  took  command  and  fought 
them  for  a  while  en  amateur,  and  once  Major  Wadsworth, 
finding  them  wandering  in  the  woods  like  lost  children,  swear- 
ing terribly  and  shooting  very  much  at  random,  performed 
the  same  service  for  them  for  a  few  minutes  ;  but  this  was  all 
that  was  realized  out  of  the  excellent  material  and  very  good 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.      v  409 

discipline  of  a  regiment  certainly  worthy,  if  well  led,  to  have 
ranked  beside  or  next  to  the  Seventy-first. 

We  have  now  seen  the  fate  of  the  Fourteenth  and  the 
Eighth,  of  Porter's  brigade.  His  cavalry  did  all  that  the 
broken  nature  of  the  ground  would  permit;  but  the  marines 
broke  in  spite  of  every  exertion  ;  and  only  the  battalion  of  the 
Twenty-seventh  remained  entirely  unbroken,  and  retired, 
when  they  did  so,  without  panic. 

We  left  Burnside's  brigade  of  Hunter's  division,  some  time 
since,  under  heavy  fire  between  the  Sudley  road  and  the  Run, 
to  the  left;  and  aid  under  Sykes,  from  Col.  Andrew  Porter's, 
coming  up  to  its  relief.  The  battery  of  the  Second  Rhode 
Island  and  the  howitzers  of  the  New  York  Seventy-first  did 
splendid  service,  and  Bnrnside,  with  the  support  of  Sykes, 
drove  the  rebels  in  confusion  before  him  and  was  enabled  to 
open  upon  the  body  opposed  to  Porter.  He  sent  the  Second 
New  Hampshire  to  the  support  of  Howard,  and  with  the  re- 
mainder of  his  brigade  went  into  the  woods  in  the  rear,  to 
supply  the  troops  with  ammunition,  which  was  nearly  ex- 
hausted. 

Sherman's  brigade  was  lost  sight  of,  some  time  ago,  shel- 
tered under  the  banks  of  the  roadway  near  the  crest  of  a  hill 
on  the  Sudley  road.  Here  Sherman  received  orders  from 
McDowell  to  attack  at  once,  and  the  Second  Wisconsin  went 
steadily  over  the  crest  for  a  time,  but  broke  at  last,  Western 
hunters  though  they  were,  under  a  fire  that  might  have  stag- 
gered veteran  troops.  The  Seventy-ninth  New  York  were 
now  ordered  to  cross  the  ridge  and  drive  the  rebels  from  the 
sheltering  clusters  of  pines  which  gave  them  such  advantage. 
Worthy  of  the  reputation  of  their  race  was  the  stubborn  at- 
tempt of  the  Scotsmen  to  fulfil  that  duty,  in  the  face  of  re- 
peated repulses.  They  wavered  and  rallied  again,  several 
times,  but  were  at  last  driven  back  to  the  shelter  of  the  road- 
wav.  leaving  their  brave  Col.  Cameron  dead  on  the  field. 

Now  came  the  turn  of  the  Sixty-ninth,  and  if  the  Gael  had 
just  displayed  his  stubborn  bravery,  here  was  a  chance  for 
the  exhibition  of  the  fiery  heroism  of  the  Celt,  Quimbys 
Thirteenth  was  hotly  engaged  on  another  ridge  a  little  to  the 
left,  and  the  event  in  fchal   direction  seemed  doubtful,  when 


410  THE      DAYS      OF      9  II  O  1»  1)  Y. 

Colonel  Corcoran  led  his  brave  Irishn.en  over  the  ridge,  in 
the  face  of  such  a  fire  as  few  troops  ever  successfully  encoun- 
tered— such  a  fire  as  up  to  that  time  had  never  been  poured 

oVer  any  portion  of  the  American  continent,  but  since  that 
time,  alas  ! — too  often  paralleled  and  even  exceeded  in  vio- 
lence. It  is  the  same  old  story  once  more  to  be  told  over — 
advance,  repulse,  rally,  the  tasking  of  every  energy;  then 
final  repulse,  with  the  gallant  Corcoran  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy — the  third  and  last  of  the  Union  Colonels  taken  mas- 
on er. 

It  was  about  four  o'clock,  p.m.,  when  the  last  ehaiL 
the  Sixty-ninth  was  made.  By  that  time  the  Federal  troops 
had  begun  to  give  way  under  the  pressure  of  Johnston's  rebel 
reinforcements  and  disaster  in  that  quarter  became  apparent; 
Schenck,  crossing  Stone  Bridge  after  Sherman  and  Keyes.  had 
been  recalled  in  the  midst  of  local  success.  Ricketts'  and 
Griffin's  batteries  had  been  taken  and  retaken  three  times,  but 
finally  left  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy  for  lack  of  horses  to 
draw  them  away.  The  rebels  captured  no  others  during  the 
engagement,  properly  so  called. 

By  that  time  (four,  p.m.),  the  field  of  Bull  Run  had  beeii 
fought,  won  and  lost  ;  and  the  whole  force  on  the  other  side  of 
Bull  Run  was  in  full  retreat.  Heintzolman's-  and  Hunter's 
divisions  retreated  by  Sudley's  Ford,  and  Sherman's  and 
Keyes'  by  the  ford  near  the  Stone  Bridge.  Burnside,  whose 
brigade  was  the  least  disorganized,  covered  the  retreat  at 
Sudley's.  The  Rhode  Islanders  and  the  Xew  York  Seventy- 
first  brought  off  their  guns  in  safety.  At  this  period  of  the 
retreat  the  Twenty-Seventh  and  Thirty-eighth  Xew  York, 
Fourth  Maine,  Fifth  Massachusetts.  First  Minnesota,  Seven- 
ty-first Xew  York,  First  and  Second  Rhode  Island,  all  dis- 
played coolness  and  brought  up  the  rear  with  steadiness  that 
would  not  have  done  discredit  to  veterans. 

The  details  of  the  action  of  the  reserve,  not  actually  included 
in  the  battle,  must  necessarily  lie  omitted,  as  well  as  the  corps- 
movements  of  the  main  body,  while  they  retained  regularity 
worthy  of  the  name,  and  after  the  event  of  the  action  was 
decided.  It  was  not  until  more  than  an  hour  after  the  retreat 
bad  commenced — when  really  no  danger  from  the  enemy  was 


T  II  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  -ill 

longer  to  be  apprehended;  and  when  even  the  rashest  bravery 
could  not  have  saved  the  lost  battle, — that  the  retreat  became 
a  flight  and  the  feeling-  of/ discouragement  a  panic.  They  err 
who  say  that  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  was  lost  by  the  coward- 
ice <»('  the  Union  troops.  It  was  lost  by  a  lack  of  numbers 
from  the  first* — delay  in  marching,  owing  partially  to  the  in- 
experience of  officers  and  partially  to  the  want  of  endurance 
of  raw  troops  on  the  route — the  knowledge  of  the  country 
ssed  by  the  rebels  and  lacking  in  the  Federals,  giving  the 
former  at  all  times  the  advantage  in  position — the  wooded, 
broken  and  easily-defensible  nature  of  the  ground  held  by  the 
rebels — and  more  than  all  and  above  all,  by  the  rebel  General 
Johnston  being  allowed,  as  before  recorded,  to  reach  the  field 
at  that  very  inopportune  moment,  with  his  overwhelming 
reinforcements.  Most  of  the  troops  fought  well— the  three- 
months  militia  regiments  peculiarly  well — when  even  decently 
led  and  while  there  was  a  hope  of  success  remaining:  they 
were  simply  beaten  out,  exhausted  and  overpowered.  And  if 
any  man  wants  any  more  explanations  of  the  melancholy  failure 
than  have  already  been  furnished;  let  him  find  them,  after  the 
manner  of  Victor  Hugo  explaining  away  Waterloo,  in  some 
Supposition  that  "  God  was  tired  of"  McDowell  or  the  Ameri- 
can Union. 

How  the  panic  commenced,  before  the  retreating  army 
reached  Cub  Run,  throwing  the  disorganized  regiments  into 
and  over  the  top  of  those  that  yet  remained  intact,  and  break- 
ing the  whole  mass  into  one  frightened  horde,  throwing  awav 
arms,  clothing,  every  thing,  in  the  madness  of  fear  and  the  sin- 
gle thought  pf  dishonorable  flight, — no  man  can  tell,  to  this 
day.  any  more  than  that  panic  can  be  explained  which  made 
the  Old  Guard  frightened  sheep  at  Waterloo.  Some  say  the 
scared  teamsters;  others  particular  regiments;  still  others, 
reports  that  the  enemy  (themselves  too  badly  (ait  up  to  pursue 
at  all;  were  close  upon  their  backs  with  still  other  reinforce- 

•  McDowell,  leaving  his  reserve,  only  carried  17,50u  men  of  nil  arms  and 
11'  pieces  of  artillery  over  Bull  Run  and  int..  action.  The  rebels  could  not 
then  have  bad  less  than  20,000  u<  25,000  on  the  ground,  and  Johnston'*  rein- 
foreetnents  brought  up  their  strength  t.>  10,000— the  Union  force*  actually  en- 
gaged being  outnumbered  two  to  one. 


412  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

ments;  and  yet  others;  the  inevitable  tendeneiea  of  humanity 
under  discouragement.     Only  God  know?  the  secret   cause  i 
the  fact,  meanwhile,  is  painfully  patent  to  mankind.     Tli 
graceful  affair  occurred.     A  beaten  army  left  the  field,  in  no 

order  than  hundreds  of  other  beaten  armies  ha-, 
treated  ;  but  nothing  more  than  a  mob  reached  the  choked-up 
bridge  at  Cub  Run,  under  the  suddenly-opened  fire  of  the 
enemy  ;  and  certainly  nothing  less  melancholy  than  a  mob 
staggered  fainting,  foot-sore,  half-clothed,  crazed  and  demo- 
niac, along  the  roads  leading  to  Centreville,  to  be  checked  a 
little  by  the  reserve  there,  to  re-occupy  the  abandoned  camps 
in  that  neighborhood,  or  to  straggle  through  the  night  towards 
Alexandria,  Arlington  Heights  and  Washington,  carrying  ter- 
ror and  panic  everywhere,  and  doing  even  more  injury  to  the 
nation  after  leaving  the  field,  than  they  had  caused  in  its 
forced  abandonment. 

The  pitying  eye  of  heaven  has  seldom  looked  down  on 
sadder  scenes  than  some  of  that  night.  Men  half-dressed, 
barefoot,  bareheaded  and  delirious,  fighting  for  the  ambu- 
lances with  the  wounded,  dragging  officers  from  their  horses, 
mounting  them  and  riding  away  ;  wounded  and  exhausted 
men  crawling  to  the  brooks,  drinking  and  dying  there ; 
piteous  cries  for  help  and  oaths  of  impatience  on  every  hand 
and  at  every  step  ;  carriages  filled  with  civilians  or  men  on 
horseback  dashing  down  the  dusky  roads,  heedless  of  life  or 
limb  in  their  career ;  arms  lying  abandoned  everywhere,  as 
if  the  toil  and  sweat  of  the  nation  had  not  bought  them; 
frightened  inquiries  on  every  hand,  from  those  who  had  not 
shared  in  the  conflict,  and  still  more  frightened  answers 
from  those  who  were  leaving  it;  brave  men  become  cowards, 
demoralization  universal,  and  despair  seeming  to  brood 
over  the  whole  scene  in  the  thick  gathering  clouds  that 
were  before  many  hours  to  expend  themselves  in  rain  on  the 
abandoned  battle-field  and  cool  the  fevered  lips  of  the  dying 
even  while  adding  to  the  tortures  of  their  wounds. 

One  w^ord  more — to  say  that  besides  the  heavy  material 
loss  of  the  Union  forces,  the  loss  in  men  numbered  nineteen 
officers,  four  hundred  and  sixty  two  non-commissioned  officer* 
and   men,  killed  and   wounded,  and  about   twelve    hundred 


THE      DAYS      OF      SnODDY.  413 

taken  prisoners  ; — and  then  let  the  curtain  of  silence,  thick 
as  that  of  the  falling  night,  be  drawn  over  the  general  sad 
result  of  the  battle  of  Bull  Run,  while  we  return  to  trace 
rapidly  and  briefly  the  fortunes  of  the  Fire  Zouaves  in.  that 
conflict,  and  especially  those  of  Burtnett  llaviland,  through* 
whom  the  whole  has  a  pertinency  to  this  relation. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Zouaves  called  to  Battle — The  blow  that  struck 
Burtnett  Hayiland  at  the  same  moment — A  true 
Heart  in  its  Despair — The  Zouaves  in  Battle — The 
Three  Charges  and  three  Repulses — End  of  a  ''Favo- 
rite Regiment1' — How  Hayiland  became  a  Rebel*— 
How  Charles  Holt  took  the  road  to  Richmond — And 
how  the  Clerk  ceased  to  be  a  Soldier. 

The  battle  call  came  to  the  Zouaves  on  Tuesday  the  16th 
of  July,  at  which  time  the  companies  at  Fort  Ellsworth  and 
those  on  duty,  beyond  received  orders  to  prepare  for  a 
march  and  the  word  "  advance  movement"  began  to  be 
bruited  in  the  camp.  Then  broke  out  afresh  the  petty 
jealousy  which  has  before  been  noticed,  against  the  Company 
employed  on  other  service;  and  though  the  fire-boys  had  no 
objection  whatever  to  a  nearer  insight  into  the  mysteries  of 
actual  warfare,  they  could  not  avoid  venting  such  remarks  as  : 

"  Oh  ho  !  we  are  going  to  fight,  are  we  ?     But  you  don't 

cateh  Company going — not  they  !     They  are  having  a 

soft  thing  of  it  down  at  Alexandria  ;  and  eaten  them  going 
any  nearer  to  a  fight  than  that,  if  they  know  it !" 

Perhaps  the  grumblers  were  a  little  surprised,  and  not  a 
little  mortified,  when  the  cars  from  Alexandria  that  came  in  to 
the  line  of  the  road  where  they  were  forming,  a  mile  south 
of  Cloud's  Mills,  on  Wednesday  morning,  brought  Company 

,  and  found  it  formed  and  ready  for  the  march,  before  any 

other  of  the  regiment  !     Perhaps  they   would   have  been  a 


414  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

little  more  surprised,  could  they  have  beard  what  passed  be 
tweeo  Captain  Jack  and  tbe  General  in  command  at  Alexan- 
dria, on  Tuesday — the  Captain's  request  that  the  Company 
might  be  allowed  to  join  the  balance  of  the  command — the 
veteran  General's  gruff:  "Young  map — when  you  are 
as  I  am,  and  have  seen  as  many  battles,  you  will  think  twice 
•  yon  go  into  any  lights  that  you  can  keep  out  of!" — 
and  th"  Captain's  reply  :  "  Very  likely,  General  ;  but  every 
one  of  my  command  would  rather  be  killed — at  least  killed  a 
little, — than  have  the  name  of  shirking  when  the  rest  of  the 
regiment  is  going  into  active  service  I" 

The  same  note  of  preparation  heard  at  Fort  Ellsworth  and 
Cloud's  Mills,  of  course  sounded  at  Alexandria  on  Tuesday, 
and  the  same  rumor  of  the  "  onward  movement"  rang  among 
the  Zouaves  there,  and  the  Michigan  troops  who  assisted  in 
holding  the  town,  that  was  stirring  up  the  companies  beyond. 
Activity,  energy,  bustle,  were  the  order  of  that  day  of  prep- 
aration for  sterner  service  than  any  they  had  so  far  seen  ;  and 
yet  there  was  one  man  among  the  Zouaves,  who  showed  noth- 
ing of  either — who  moved  like  a  man  in  a  dream — with  set 
and  glaring  eyes,  compressed  mouth,  and  something  in  his 
whole  demeanor  that  would  have  told  any  close  observer  that 
he  was  passing  through  that  period  of  quiet  despair  which 
follows  the  acme  of  mental  suffering. 

That  man  was  Burtnett  Haviland.  The  same  hour  which 
spread  among  the  Zouaves  the  knowledge  that  they  were  to 
participate  in  the  army's  advance  movement,  had  brought  him 
a  letter  from  Washington  by  the  mail-boat,  bearing  the  Xew 
York  post-mark,  and  in  Kate's  well  known  hand  writing. 
What  that  letter  contained,  may  be  easily  judged,  when  it  is 
remembered  that  Kate  Haviland  had  written  it  in  his  own 
house,  within  an  hour  after  the  discovery  of  his  wife's  sup- 
posed elopement  !  What  that  true-hearted  man  suffered  un- 
der that  culminating  blow  which  could  never  be  followed  by 
one  deadlier  or  more  cruel,  can  only  be  known  by  those  (and 
they  are  few — and  yet  too  many  !)  who  have  passed  through 
the  same  terrible  ordeal. 

The  Zouave  was  on  guard  on  one  of  the  wharves  when  the 
letter  was  handed  him,  and  very  fortuuately  he  was  alone 


T  II  E      1)  A  Y  S      OF      SHODDY.  415 

when  he  opened  and  read  it.  For  he  would  not  have  been 
pleased  at  the  neighborhood  of  too  close  observers,  however 
friendly,  when  the  worst  fears  of  the  last  two  months  were 
all  realized  a  thousand  times  over,  and  the  last  hope  of  his 
lii'e  destroyed.  When  he  bent  down  his  head,  leaning  upon 
the  weapon  that  at  that  moment  seemed  to  be  his  only  friend, 
felt  the  hot  tears  gushing  from  his  eyes  in  another  and  a 
deeper  sorrow  than  he  had  known  that  fatal  night  in  the  store 
of  Charles  Holt  &  Andrews,  and  great  sobs  burst  forth  and 
shook  his  strong  frame  as  if  the  very  foundations  of  his  be- 
ing were  breaking  up.  When  at  length  he  raised  his  head, 
with  one  fearful  oath  which  the  recording  angels  who  pity 
human  sorrow  while  they  measure  human  crime,  can  scarcely 
have  set  down  against  him, — threw  the  unwelcome  missive 
into  the  dirt  that  lay  thick  upon  the  wharf,  and  ground  it  with 
his  heavy  heel  till  it  was  a  mere  mass  of  Illegible  fragments. 
The  ruin  was  complete  and  final.  He  believed  that  his 
destiny  was  accomplished — that  the  sacrifice  he  had  felt  him- 
self called  upon  to  make  for  his  country,  was  made  to  the 
uttermost,  in  a  bereavement  fifty  times  worse  than  the  mere 
vielding  up  of  his  life.  The  yielding  up  of  his  life  1-^-ah, 
there  was  one  thought  of  consolation.  He  had,  just  then,  no 
wish  for  life  ;  nor  had  he  yet  even  constructed  out  of  the 
wreck  of  his  hopes,  that  raft  upon  which  so  many  float  for  a 
time  after  existence  is  a  burthen — revenge.  His  regiment 
was  going  into  battle  :  the  chance  was  welcome — he  would 
go  with  it  and  die  !  After  that  one  fearful  oath  he  spoke  no 
word  aloud.  There  was  no  one  to  whom  to  speak  it  ;  and 
there  are  extremities  of  outrage  and  misery,  under  which 
dead,  stubborn  silence,  with  the  lip  rigid  and  the  eye  set  like 
stone,  forms  the  only  exponent  of  feeliiiu;.  And  yet  perhaps 
it  was  a  revenge  which  that  wronged  husband  thought  for 
the  moment  of  taking — one  of  those  revenges  which  gods 
might  exhibit,  and  weak,  loving  women  sometimes  display  to 
shame  the  arrogance  of  those  who  would  claim  to  be  their 
masters — the  terrible  revenge  of  going  away  from  the  chance 
of  any  struggle  that  might  interfere  with  the  mad  course  of 
unscrupulous  crime,  and  leaving  that  unrestrained  indulgence 
to  punish  itself  in  the  future. 


416  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

This  was  the  state  of  feeling  with  which  one  member  of 
Captain  Jack's  Company  went  forward  to  the  fight :  who 
knows  how  many  others,  in  that  and  other  companies,  may 
have  suffered  equally  from  some  other  cause  as  shameful,  and 
vet  found  no  chronicler  of  the  wrong  or  its  effect-  : 

The  whole  Zouave  regiment,  with  the  others  of  Wilcox's 
brigade  (already  named  in  the  preceding  general  account  of 
the  battle),  moved  from  Cloud's  Mills  oil  Wednesday  morn- 
ing, and  caught  a  new  taste  of  the  quality  of  "  active  service1' 
by  sleeping  that  night,  without  blankets  or  any  shelter,  in  a 
miserable  muddy  swamp  some  eight  or  ten  miles  south  of 
Fairfax,  where  frogs,  lizards  and  water-snakes  had  an  undis- 
puted pre-emption, — after  making  an  unsuccessful  detour  to 
trap  the  rebel  troops  at  Burke's  Station,  and  seeing  the  smoke 
rising  during  the  day  at  a  distance,  from  Fairfax  Court  House, 
then  being  sacked  by  the  forces  advancing  from  Washington. 

On  Thursday  night  they  encamped  at  Burke's  Station,  and 
on  Friday  pushed  on  to  Centreville,  coming  in  while  the  can- 
non were  yet  sounding  at  the  close  of  the  skirmish  of  that 
day.  All  night  long  poor  Farnham,  the  Zouave  Colonel,  lay 
sick  in  an  ambulance,  unfit  to  move  one  step  further,  but  the 
soul  too  large  for  his  broken  and  enervated  body.  At  two  in 
the  morning  they  were  again  under  arms,  in  the  waning 
moonlight,  and  ready  for  the  march  as  the  other  unfed  troops 
(one  more  imprecation  on  the  "shoddy"  quartermasters  who 
starved  them  while  tilling  their  own  capacious  pockets  !)  could 
be  under  the  circumstances  But  it  was  seven  o'clock  before 
they  could  move,  other  divisions  (as  has  been  seen)  occupy- 
ing the  road  towards  Man  asses. 

At  seven  the  brigade  moved  forward,  over  the  broken  and 
stony  road  between  Centreville  and  Manasses,  the  best  hours 
of  the  morning  lost,  the  air  fearfully  sultry,  the  sun  coming 
down  with  a  blinding  glare  which  seemed  like  that  of  meri- 
dian, and  the  exhausted  men  even  then  dropping  so  fast  that 
there  was  scarcely  a  rood  of  the  road  not  darkened  with  some 
human  form  incapable  of  further  exertion  and  doomed  to 
death  if  left  to  writhe  in  the  heat  of  the  coming  noon.  But 
the  word  was  "  Hurry  !"  and  on  they  pressed — faster — faster, 
at  everv  mile,  as  it  seemed   to   the   unaccustomed   soldiers. 


T  11  K       I)  A  V  S      OF      S  It  o  I)  I)  V  .  4  17 

Half-past  ten,  and  they  were  near  Cub  Run  Before  them 
could  be  heard  the  boom  of  cannon  and  seen  the  rising  smoke 
of  the  battle  already  begun.  Then  rose  what  is  to  be  found 
at  times  in  every  true  man — excitement  overcoming  fatigue, 
and  that  power  born  of  temporary  madness.  An  aide-de-camp 
dashed  down  the  road  from  Heintzelman,  who  had  been  long 
on  the  watch,  ordering  Wilcoxfa  brigade  forward  instantly. 
There  were  yet  twro  miles  to  traverse,  to  reach  Sudley,  where 
the  bravery  and  dash  of  the  brigade,  upon  which  the  General 
so  largely  counted,  were  sorely  needed  for  the  support  of  the 
hotly-engaged  "Centre.  To  the  Zouaves,  especially,  this  was 
something  like  what  the  ringing  of  a  "general  alarm"  had 
been  in  the  days  of  fire-duty.  Away  went  coats,  in  some  in- 
stances caps,  even  shoes — every  thing  but  guns  and  ammuni- 
tion, and  on  they  dashed  at  double-quick,  exhausted  and  beaten 
out,  but  believing  that  they  had  work  before  them  and  de- 
termined to  do  it  or  die.  More  than  once  Burtnett  Haviland, 
one  of  the  most  able-bodied  men  in  the  advance  companies, 
rushing  on  under  the  blistering  sun,  through  the  choking 
dust,  and  feeling  the  blood  surging  to  his  head  like  a  tide  of 
hot  lava  that  seemed  to  scorch  every  vein  and  wither  every 
nerve, — doubted  whether  that  object  of  which  he  was  in 
search — death  ! — would  not  be  found  ingloriously  in  the  light- 
ning flash  of  sun-stroke,  before  the  bullet  of  any  enemy  could 
have  opportunity  to  reach  his  heart ! 

It  was  noon  when  they  reached  Sudley's  Springs,  and  a 
moment's  halt  was  ordered  to  "  fill  canteens."  Down  to  the 
rivulet  not  yet  reddened  with  the  blood  that  was  so  soon  to 
thicken  it,  sprang  the  tired  fellows;  but  even  this  justice  was 
to  be  denied  them,  for  before  one-third  had  succeeded  in  ob- 
taining a  drop  of  the  fluid  so  necessary  for  the  maintenance 
of  human  life,  there  was  another  call  for  help  that  came  out 
of  the  deafening  roar  and  blinding  smoke  immediately  in 
front,  and  the  order  "  Forward  !"  was  again  given.  There 
was  but  a  little  time  more  of  pride  for  the  Zouaves,  but  that 
pride  yet  existed.  The  order  was  obeyed,  and  the  Zouaves 
rather  plunged  than  inarched  forward  into  that  heli  of  deadly 
strife — of  cannon  roar,  and  the  crack  of  small  arms,  and 
shouts,  and  smoke,  and  blinding  dust — which  seemed  so  im- 
26 


4  IS  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

possible  for  any  man  to  escape  when  he  should  once  have 
entered  it.  * 

The  Zouaves  were  in  the  advance.  tegular  battery, 

as  they  readied  the  spot  on  the  rig-lit  of  Sudley's  Ford  where 
the  centre  was  so  hotly  engaged,  was  hardly  pressed,  and  they 
wheeled  short  to  the  right  and  rushed  up  a  stony  side-road 
that  climbed  the  wooded  hill,  to  support  that  battery.  So 
far  there  was  no  lack  of  discipline.  Orders  were  obeyed 
almost  with  the  precision  of  regulars.  A  moment  placed  the 
body  of  the  regiment  in  position,  and  they  opened  lire,  while 
the  right  wing  dashed  into  what  they  supposed  to  lie  the 
shelter  of  a  clump  of  woods,  to  support.  A  most  deadly 
'  shelter,1'  indeed  !  The  whole  clump  was  a  masked  battery, 
with  infantry  at  either  edge!  At  not  more  than  pistol-shot 
distance  it  burst  into  the  faces  of  the  Fire  Zouaves,  who 
found,  then  and  there,  that  there  was  something  in  the  world 
yet  more  trying  to  human  courage  than  the  smoke  and  flame 
of  their  favorite  service  and  the  tottering  of  red-hot  wall.-  in 
the  air  above  their  heads  !  They  broke  ;  and  yet  discipline 
could  not  have  been  aU  lost  at  once,  as  some  detractors  aver; 
for  military  men  will  know  what  is  contained  in  the  fact  that 
the  first  company  only  drove  back  the  second  about  twenty 
feet,  and  that  the  second  counted  off  under  that  fire,  two  men 
falling  in  their  ranks  as  they  did  so  !  Burtnett  Ha vi laud's 
file-closer  had  just  answered  "two!"  as  a  fragment  of  shell 
stniek  him  in  the  forehead,  scattering  his  brains  over  the  file- 
leader  ;  and  yet  neither  shell  nor  bullet  seemed  to  be  billeted 
for  him. 

The  regiment  was  yet  in  good  order  when  it  dropped  down 
the  hill  a  hundred  yards  for  shelter;  and  it  was  in  good  order, 
though  somewhat  thinned,  when  it  made  the  second  advance, 
not  many  minutes  afterwards,  to  clear  the  clump  of  woods 
and  take  the  annoying  battery.  But  the  fates  seemed  against 
it,  even  if  courage  could  have  availed  against  overpowering 
numbers.  PoorFarnham  reeled  in  his  saddle — a  rebel  bullet 
had  struck  him  in  the  side  of  the  head,  tearing  off  his  ear 
and  injuring  the  brain.  These  men  were  not  soldiers  enough 
to  be  maddened  by  the  Bight  of  their  leader  tottering  in  his 
seat  and  only  held  on  his  horse  \)j  supporting  hands— they 


T  II  K      DAYS      p  F      S  II  0  D  I)  Y .  41 9 

wove  only  discouraged  by  it.  They  broke  again,  worse  than 
before,  and  fell  back  once  more  under  the  Bbelter  of  tbe  hill, 
where  they  were  again  formed  with  some  difficulty.  Want  of 
discipline  and  steadiness  was  beginning  to  tell,  now,  at  the 
wry  moment  when  its  lack  or  its  possession  was  to  make  or 
mar  the  whole  future  of  the  regiment. 

Heintzelman — that  bundle  of  nerves,  whoso  thin,  active 
figure,  ever  in  motion,  seems  the  incarnation  of  restless  dis- 
content,— hurled  some  fierce  oaths  as  he  put  himself*  at  the 
head  of  the  ^Zouaves,  ordering  the  Michigan  troops  of  the 
brigade  forward  to  support,  and  led  them  to  that  third 
charge  which  was  the  only  one  connected  with  their  action 
on  the  field,  that  he  thought  proper  afterwards  to  mention 
in  his  ofticial  report.  The  little  General  was  grim  and 
"  wolfish,"  just  then — not  the  less  so  from  the  pain  of  his 
wound.  Just  as  the  brigade  advanced  up  the  hill,  the  rebels 
pOUred  out  from  their  shelter  upon  Ayres'  battery,  and  showed 
not  less  than  three  brigades  of  Mississippi  and  Alabama 
troops,  supported  by  a  squadron  of  cavalry  known  as  tbe 
"Black  Horse.1'  The-  odds  were  really  hopeless,  and  this 
time  the  Zouaves  broke  disgracefully,  the  cavalry  rfding 
through  them  with  only  the  emptying  of  a  few  saddles,  to 
meet  destruction  a  few  moments  after  at  the  hands  of  the 
Union  troopers  of  Capt.  Colburn.  Two  companies  of  the 
Zouaves  maintained  order  for  the  time,  and  did  their  pari  in 
a  sharp  fight  over  the  guns  of  Ayres'  battery,  assisting  at 
last  in  bringing  away  all  the  pieces  but  one  ;  and  many  of 
the  regiment  did  duty  afterwards  as  skirmishers;  but  Farn- 
ham  had  at  last  fallen  and  was  to  lie  uncared  for  during  all 
th/it  long  day  and  night  and  with  the  rain  of  the  next  day 
beating  him  into  the  mud  it  was  forming;  Downey  and  many 
others  of  the  best  officers  and  men  of  the  organization  were 
prisoners  in  the  hands  of  the  rebels,  doomed  to  a  year  "1" 
Buffering  in  the  prisons  of  Richmond,  Charleston  and  Colum- 
bia; and  the  career  of  the  regiment,  as  a  regiment,  was 
ended  from  that  moment.  Traits  of  nobility  there  were  to 
be  exhibited  by  individual  members,  worthy  of  any  body  of 
troops  in  any  service  ;  some  of  the  most  valued  members 
were   to  .permit  themselves  to   be  dragged  oil*  as  prisoners, 


420  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

contrary  to  all  the  usages  of  war,  rather  than  desert  the 
wounded  who  were  imploring  their  aid ;  one  of  the  Captains 
was  to  crawl  back  all  the  way  from  Centreville  to  Cub  Run, 
that  night,  to  look  after  the  life  of  an  orderly-sergeant,  so 
unendurably  footsore  all  the  while  as  to  be  obliged  to  throw 
away  his  shoes  and  return  barefoot, — and  stopping  at  mid- 
night on  the  bridge  choked  up  with  dead,  to  give  water  i'mm 
his  canteen  to  the  dying  who  implored  it ;  those  and  other 
noble  traits  were  to  be  exhibited,  but  to  no  purpose  for  the 
eventual  salvation  of  the  regiment.  '  Disorganization  had 
commenced  and  no  human  power  could  check  it. 

Half  an  hour  after  their  last  repulse,  when  the  general 
retreat  commenced,  the  Fire  Zouaves  were  among  the  nio.-t 
disorderly  bodies  in  the  whole  army.  When  the  panic  began  and 
disgraceful  flight  became  the  order  of  the  day,  there  seemed 
to  be  no  bound  to  the  miserable  poltroonery  of  a  large  propor- 
tion. None  in  all  the  army  bragged  so  of  their  courage 
and  disgusted  all  listeners  with  the  account  of  the  exploits 
they  had  performed,  as  those  members  of  the  regiment  who 
had  run  away  without  doing  any  thing  else.  Captain  Jack's 
company  mustered  forty  men  at  Fort  Ellsworth  the  night 
following,  and  for  a  time  again  guarded  the  warehouses  at 
Alexandria.  Others  straggled  into  Alexandria  and  Washing- 
ton, without  commanders,  and  were  fed  like  beggars  on 
charity,  by  other  troops.  More  than  half  of  those  who 
remained,  disgracefully  deserted  and  reached  New  York  and 
other  places  in  the  North,  within  a  few  days  after  the  battle, 
disguised  or  boldly  shameless.  They  recruited  vainly  at 
Bedloe's,  and  went  into  camp  vainly  at  Fortress  Monroe. 
Xo  power  could  save  what  was  doomed  ;  and  within  a  year 
from  the  date  of  its  organization,  the  Fire  Zouave  Regiment, 
upon  which  so  many  hopes  had  been  built  when  Ellsworth 
sailed  away  with  it  from  the  city  of  Xew  York — after  winning 
honor  in  some  particulars  but  covering  itself  with  eternal 
disgrace  in  others — after  being  alternately  over-glorified  and 
disgracefully  ill-used,* — was  mustered    out   of  the    service, 

*  Th:it  may  as  well  be  said  here  which  has  never  yet,  as  we  believe,  been 
made  public,  but  which  is  certainly  true  and  very  important  as  affecting  tlie 
career  and  conduct  of  this  unfortunate  regiment.     Most  of  the    Zouaves  be- 


T  H  E       DAYS      OF       S  11  O  I)  1>  Y .  42 1 

molted  away  and  has  been  heard  of  no  more,  except  a.^  its 
name  has  occasionally  crept  in  to  illustrate  a  newspaper 
paragraph,  or  the  circumstances  surrounding  some  particular 
member  have  been  found  singular  enough  (as  in  the  present 

instance)  to  warrant  weaving  them  into  the  romance  of 
history. 

With  which  observation,  once  more  and  for  the  last  time 
the  course  of  this  narration  leaves  the  general  events  of  the 
war  to  trace  briefly  out  the  remaining  fortunes  of  the  leading 
characters. 

Burtnett  Haviland  was  unwonnded  during  either  of  the  des- 
perate charges  made  by  the  Zouaves  at  Sudley.  The  blood 
and  brains  of  comrades  continually  spattered  over  him  and 
occasionally  made  him  sick  at  heart,  but  because  he  had  realty 
sought  death  there  seemed  to  be  no  bullet  directed  at  his  life. 
Even  lighting  over  the  guns  of  Ayres'  battery,  three  tines  In 
hand-to-hand  conflict,  twice  with  foot-soldiers  and  once  with 
a  mounted  officer,  and  twice  of  the  three  times  killing  his 
man, — he  had  not  even  a  scratch  !  lie  was  once  swept  doWn 
and  literally  run  over  by  one  of  the  charges  made  by  the 
rebels  on  the  battery,  and  believed  for  the  moment  that  his 
time  was  come,  as  he  lay  temporarily  prostrate  and  guns 
Hashed  and  swords  gleamed  above  him.  Any  one  who  saw 
him  might  have  believed  him  gone  beyond  hope,  as  were 
indeed  many  of  those  who  fought  at  his  side,  in  that  very 
charge.  But  he  rose  again,  swept  away  from  the  spot  in  the 
irresistible  rush,  by  some  miracle  unwounded  and  not  even 
bruised  by  the  trampling  feet  of  men  and  horses,  though  his 
outward  appearance  was  certainly  not  improved  by  that  An- 
ta^an  contact  with  his  mother  earth,  so  little  calculated  to  en- 
dow him  with  additional  strength.     He  had  longbefore  losl 

lieved  themselves,  when  they  enlisted,  tu  be  going  for  three  Won  tin:  after- 
wards  they  agreed  to  remain  in  service  one  gear;  and  when  they  were  mus- 
tered in,  in  front  of  the  Capitol,  by  Major  McDowell,  they  were  forced  to 
apree  to  their  term  beincr  made  three  years,  or  disgrace  themselves  by 
apparent  cowardice.  Ellsworth  may  not  have  been  guilty  of  intentional 
deception :  if  he  waa  not,  he  made  a.  sad  mistake  and  other  parties  were  sadly 
Culpable.  There  was  nothing  more  essentially  "shoddy"  about  any  thing  in 
the  whole  early  management  of  the  war.  than  the  blundering  shown  in  the 
arrangements  made  tor  and  with  this,  regiment 


422  THE       DAYS       OF       SHODDY, 

his  canteen,  thrown  away  his  coat,  suspenders  aud  red  shirt, 
only  retaining  pants,  shoes,  cap  and  bis  white  shirt — white  by 
courtesy,  for  amid  the  sweat,  and  dust,  and  grime,  the  shirt, 
like  his  face,  was  nearer  to  almost  any  other  color  than  that  of 
purity,  and  the  man  would  have  possessed  keen  eyes  who 
even  recognized  in  that  desolate,  grimy  and  bandit-looking 
figure  the  once  neatly-dressed  and  really  handsome  clerk  of 
Charles  Holt  &  Andrews. 

Then  came  the  panic,  the  rush  and  the  mad  desperation  in 
which  he  was  borne  away  with  all  the  others.  He  heard  noth- 
ing, saw  nothing,  except  sounds  and  sights  of  terror  and  dis- 
organization, culminating  as  the  flight  extended  and  the  fugi- 
tives were  borne  farther  from  the  field,  in  the  opening  of  the 
rebels  upon  them  with  cannon  at  Cub  Run,  and  the  struggling 
of  the  mass  of  disorganized  humanity  across  that  stream — 
over  the  choked  bridge  and  through  the  water  below  and 
above  it.  The  Zouave  scarcely  knew  how  he  himself  crossed, 
so  stunned  and  deafened  was  he  by  the  general  confusion  ; 
but  he  must  have  forded  at  some  shallow  part  of  the  stream, 
for  he  was  wet  to  the  knees.  He  staggered  up  the  bank, 
and  gained  the  edge  of  a  little  thicket  of  scrubby  oaks  near 
the  bank.  The  sounds  of  flight  and  pursuit  were  all  around 
Mm,  but  not  in  his  immediate  neighborhood;  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  dropped  down  upon  the  stump  of  a  fallen  tree,  to 
catch  breath.  Haviland  had  been  flying  like  the  -rest,  for 
the  past  half  hour — there  is  no  use  of  attempting  to  disguise 
the  fact, — flying  for  his  life.  He  had  forgotten,  for  the  time, 
his  desire  for  death,  as  many  another  man  has  done  when  the 
spectre  he  invoked  came  too  near ;  or  he  had  seen  how  many 
of  the  Union  troops  were  being  captured,  and'  he  dreaded, 
more  than  the  sacrifice  of  his  life,  the  possibility  of  being 
dragged  away  to  a  rebel  prison. 

At  all  events,  the  next  movement  of  this  man.  after  sitting 
down  upon  the  stump  of  the  fallen  tree,  showed  that  his  grief 
had  been  made  subordinate  to  other  considerations.  Under 
the  edge  of  the  brush  of  the  tree-top  lying  on  the  ground, 
be  caught  sight  of  a  ghastly  object.  It  was  the  body  of  a. 
dead  rebel,  a  large  man,  with  the  number  of  the  Tenth  Mis- 
sissippi regiment  on  his  gray  cap,  who  had  been  killed  there 


THE      DAYS      OF      S  II  0  D  I)  Y.  -123 

or  crawled   there  to  die,  some   bourB  earlier  in  the  battle, 

Uurtnett  Haviland  Btaggered  to  hia  feet,  and  a  new  thought, 
as  well  as  the  culmination  of  a  new  feeling,  took  possession 
of  him.  He  did  not  know  that  fate  was  bearing  him  on  and 
that  ho  merely  played  his  part;  ho  believed  that  he  was  act- 
intr  entirely  from  his  own  volition.  Tho  now  feeling  that  cul- 
minated was  the  sudden  desire  to  save  his  life  or  escape  from 
imprisonment,  which  had  been  born  within  the  past  half-hour. 
The  new  thought  was  the  belief  that  the  means  for  both  were 
at  band.  Under  such  circumstances,  to  will  is  to  do,  and  very 
little  time  is  consumed  in  preliminary  operations.  In  a  mo- 
ment he  had  loosened  the  clothes  of  the  dead  rebel  at  the 
waist,  and  in  another  moment  had  drawn  off  the  trousers 
and  drawn  them  on  (hot  as  was  the  addition  to  his  wardrobe) 
over  his  own.  For  the  coat  he  had  no  necessity — his  own 
ditty  white  shirt  was  quite  sufficient  to  make  him  a  "butter- 
nut." He  threw  down  his  own  cap,  put  on  that  of  the  half- 
denuded  Mississippian,  caught  up  the  old  long  rifle  that  lay 
beside  him,  and  was  for  the  time,  to  all  intents  and  purposes, 
a  rebel. 

His  plans,  at  the  moment,  may  be  told  in  a  word.  While 
upon  ground  in'the  rebel  possession,  in  that  guise  he  would  be 
safe  even  against  capture,  and  if  captured  by  any  of  the  re- 
treating Union  troops  he  would  of  course  be  beyond  danger, 
as  he  had  the  means  in  his  possession  of  proving  his  iden- 
tity. If  he  thought  of  ridicule  in  that  connection,  the  idea  did 
not  trouble  him  sadly  ;  for  the  man  who  runs  away  in  his 
own  clothes  is  not  niUch  less  ridiculous  than  the  man  who 
escapes  in  those  of  another ! 

A  moment,  and  there  was  the  cry  of  voices  coming  down 
the  road  from  the  North- west,  outside  of  the  clump  of  trees. 
The  new  rebel  ran  to  the  edge  of  the  wood  and  looked  out. 
A  carriage  was  dashing  down  to  the  Ccntreville  road,  from 
the  banks  of  the  Run  above — one  of  the  many  containing 
civilians  who  had  gone  out  from  Washington  and  the  neigh- 
borhood, to  feast  their  eyes  on  that  bloody  spectacle,  as  the 
Koman  patricians  might  have  done  on  the  agonies  of  the 
gladiators  lighting  with  each  other  or  with  beasts  in  the 
arena, — highly  ediiied  because   out   of  danger — both  !     One 


424:  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

moment's  glance  told  the  Mississippian  ])ro  tern. ,  so  much  ; 
the  next  showed  that  close  behind  were  ten  or  a  dozen  rebels, 
attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the  turn-out  and  intent  on  making 
a  capture.  The  horses  were  going  at  speed,  and  though  two 
or  three  of  the  rebels  were  a  little  ahead,  it  seemed  doubtful 
whether  they  could  reach  the  edge  of  the  road  in  time  to  in- 
tercept the  carriage  ;  while  the  carriage  could  not  swerve 
from  its  course,  owing  to  the  rocks  and  trees  to  the  left,  and 
must  pass  within  six  feet  of  where  he  stood.  The  gray-elads 
seemed  to  have  exhausted  their  ammunition,  and  could  not 
fire  :  there  was  every  chance  that  the  occupants  of  the  car- 
riage would  escape  :  he  hoped  and  believed  that  they  would, 
though  of  course  he  could  do  nothing  to  aid  them  at  that 
moment. 

Suddenly,  as  the  carriage  came  nearer,  he  started  forward. 
A  man  had  thrust  his  head  out  of  the  right  window  of  the 
vehicle,  to  see  how  matters  were  progressing  or  to  urge  yet 
greater  speed.  Rapid  as  was  the  movement.  Burtnett  Ilavi- 
land  saw  and  recognized  that  peculiar  and  well-known  face 
in  an  instant.  That  man  was  Charles  Holt,  the  merchant,  his 
old  employer  and  the  betrayer  of  his  wife  !  Did  we  say,  a 
few  pages  back,  that  the  husband  whose  domestic  happiness 
was  thus  ruined,  had  not  yet  found  time  to  build  the  raft  "  re- 
venge" out  of  the  wreck  of  his  hopes  ?  If  so,  he  built  that 
raft  very  rapidly  at  this  moment !  Shame,  wrong,  hatred, 
every  thing  rose  within  him  in  an  instant,  and  his  hand  was 
ready  for  any  deed.  He  would  kill  the  seducer,  now  while 
he  had  the  opportunity  !  Then  another  thought  followed, 
quite  as  rapidly  :  he  would  throw  him  into  the  hands  of  the 
rebels,  and  trust  to  them  for  his  suffering  a  thousand  deaths  ! 
!Xo  sooner  thought  than  done.  The  carriage  was  close  at 
hand  and  still  flying  rapidly  :  it  had  cleared  the  rebels  trying 
to  cut  it  off,  and  would  escape.  He  had  tried  the  rifle,  before 
— found  it  unloaded,  and  so  could  not  shoot  the  horses  and 
stop  their  career.  But  he  could  do  something  else,  and  he 
did  it.  Springing  to  the  side  of  the  road  as  the  carriage 
swept  up,  he  clubbed  the  long,  heavy  Mississippi  rifle  and 
brought  it  with  all  his  force  ful  into  the  face  of  the  horse 
nearest  him.     Nojt  even  the  flying  speed  of  the  animals  could 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  425 

overbalance  such  a  chock.  A  second  blow,  given  before  they 
could  recover  and  ipririg  forward  again,  sent  the  horse  to  the 
ground,  the  other  falling  over  him,  and  the  carriage  half-over- 
turned on  the  to}>  of  both  ;  at  the  same  time  that  a  couple  of 
rcvolver-.-hots  came  from  the  carriage  window  and  one  of 
them  went  through  I Ia\  Hand's  gray  cap,  very  nearly  afford- 
ing him  that  chance  of  death  for  which  he  had  been  looking 
during  all  the  earlier  portion  of  the  day. 

The  door  of  the  carriage  was  dashed  open  in  an  instant, 
and  Charles  Holt,  the  only  occupant,  sprang  out,  The  driver 
was  already  on  his  feet.  The  hindrance  had  been  sufficient 
to  give  the  rebels  behind  time  to  come  up,  and  as  he  touched 
Ihe  ground,  he,  as  well  as  the  driver,  was  in  the  hands  of 
half  a  dozen  of  the  gray-clads.  He  looked  at  Haviland,  but 
did  not  recognize  him  in  that  changed  garb,  with  his  short 
hair  and  beard,  and  beneath  that  load  of  grime.  Had  he 
done  so,  and  done  it  but  one  moment  earlier,  the  two  remain- 
ing shots  in  his  revolver  would  probably  have  been  better 
aimed  ! 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  one  of  the  rebels,  who  all  belonged 
to  a  native  Virginian  regiment. 

'  ~"  Tenth  Mississippi — don't  you  see  V  answered  the  Zouave, 
pointing  to  his  cap. 

'•Oh  yes.  Well,  you  did  that  smart  enough,  anyhow. 
Got  a  hole  through  your  cap,  too,  pretty  near  the  head.  Did 
he  do  it,  just  now  ?" 

M  Yes,"  said  Haviland. 

"  Well,  confound  his  Yankee  blood  V  said  the  rebel.  "  He 
won't  do  so  any  more,  just  now,  I'll  bet  !" 

"  I  think  he  is  an  officer,  trying  to  escape  in  other  clothes. 
Take  good  care  of  him,  and  don't  let  him  get  away  !"  said  the 
Zouave,  with  a  refinement  of  ingenuity  which  did  great  honor 
to  his  short  military  education. 

"  Don't  you  want  any  thing  ?  We  couldn't  have  got  him, 
you  know,  if  you  hadn't  stopped  him  !"  said  the  rebel,  as  the 
rest  were  just  completing  their  operations  upon  watch,  jewelry, 
well-filled  purse,  and  ail  the  other  articles  in  the  merchant's 
possession.  Others  were  getting  up  the  fallen  horses  and 
preparing  to  drive  away  with  their  prisoner. 


42i3  TH  E       D  A  YS      OF       S  H  u  D  D  V. 

'•  N«>,  nothing — /  have  been  paid  well  enough  !"'  answered 
the  virtual  captor. 

"  Hallo  !  here  is  a  picture  !  the  Yank  has  got  a  woman 
somewhere  !"  exclaimed  one  of  the  rebels. 

••  A  picture  ?  let  me  see  it  I"  said  Bnrtnett  Haviland.  step- 
ping forward.  How  much  that  word  "  picture"  recalled,  in 
connection  with  that  man  and  Ijis  own  happiness  !  What  it* 
this  should  be  the  one  to  which  Kate  had  referred  ! 

There  was  something  in  the  voice  that  startled  the  mer- 
chant for  a  moment.  He  looked  hard  at  Haviland,  but  no 
human  eye,  not  even  that  of  his  wife,  could  have  recognized 
him  under  that  change  in  every  particular.  Haviland  took 
the  picture,  and  at  that  moment,  like  a  revelation,  came  to 
him  what  he  had  before  forgotten — that  he  had  had  that  pic- 
ture down  at  the  store,  and  left  it  there  where  the  merchant 
could  very  easily  have  obtained  it  without  any  good  will  of 
his  wife  The  thought  disturbed  him,  for  it  half  unsettled 
what  had  been  total  misery  submitted  to  and  therefore  en- 
durable. As  he  examined  the  little  ambrotypo,  two  or  three 
of  the  butternuts  were  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Purty,  I  tell  you  !"  said  one  of  them. 

"  Them  Nuthern  wimmen  isgallus.  I  reckon  I"  said  another, 
who  had  been  North  on  an  oyster-boat  and  seen  "  around 
the  market"  and  perhaps  even  Broadway. 

"  The  Yank's  mistress,  I  suppose  !"  said  Burtnett  Haviland, 
in  a  loud  tone,  glancing  at  the  prisoner  out  of  the  corner  of 
his  eye  at  the  same  moment. 

Charles  Holt  was  a  scoundrel,  but  no  coward ;  and  he 
lacked  one  vice — that  of  boasting  over  female  conquests  never 
achieved — the  dirtiest,  meanest,  foulest  vice  of  this  age.  Not 
even  among  those  greasy  butternuts  would  he  do  that,  even 
by  implication ! 

"No,  by  heaven  !"'  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  left  no  doubt  as 
to  his  sincerity.  "That  woman  never  was  my  mistress- 
though  the  Lord  knows  I  have  tried  hard  enough  to  make 
her  so!  She  was  too  smart — too  good,  I  suppose,  for  me! 
That  is  enough,  and  it  is  none  of  your  business,  you  thieves, 
any  thing  about  it." 

Haviland  reeled  again,  as  if  struck  by  one  more  of  tho^e 


T  II  B      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  427 

ever-recurring  blows.  Superadded  to  the  exhaustion  and  the 
excitement  of  the  day,  this  discovery  of  the  picture  and  asser- 
tion of  the  merchant  were  too  much  for  him.  There  was 
vertigo  in  his  head,  and  a  trembling  in  bis  limbs;  and  he  was 

so  fearfully  excited  that  he  was  almost  on  the  point  of  bet  lay- 
ing himself  and  sharing  the  merchant's  imprisonment  by  one 
imprudent  question.  But  a  thought  of  bis  danger  and  of  the 
merchant's  intended  if  not  actual  guilt,  confessed  by  his  own 
lips,  calmed  him  a  little,  and  he  said: 

"  Give  me  this  picture,  boys,  for  my  share.  You  may  have 
the  rest." 

"Agreed  !"  said  two  or  three  voices,  for  such  a  distribution 
rather  pleased  the  rebels  than  otherwise;  and  Haviland 
dropped  the  picture  into  one  of  his  pockets,  as  he  said : 

"Well,  take  care  of  the  Yankee,  boys.  Some  of  our  fel- 
lows are  below  here,  and  I  must  go  down  and  look  for  them." 

No  effort  was  made  to  detain  him,  and  he  turned  away  and 
plunged  into  the  woods,  looking  back  to  see  the  rebels  lifting 
the  carriage  around  in  the  road  and  thrusting  Charles  Holt 
and  the  driver  into  it,  preparatory  to  giving  them  a  ride  into 
the  lines  of  Beauregard,  as  a  turn  on  the  road  to  Richmond. 

Half  an  hour  later,  skirting  the  woods  stretching  down  Cub 
Bun  and  striking  thence  across  to  the  Centreville  road,  Havi- 
land was  beyond  danger  from  rebel  capture  and  up  with  some 
of  the  retreating  Union  regintents.  Before  that  time,  finding 
them  no  longer  necessary,  he  had  thrown  away  the  rebel  pants 
and  cap,  easily  supplying  the  place  of  the  latter  w^ith  one  of 
the  Federal  caps  that  so  plentifully  strewed  the  way.  and 
adding  a  jacket  and  a  couple  of  revolvers  to  the  equipment. 
At  dusk  the  crowd  of  fugitives  had  carried  him  into  Centre- 
ville, amid  such  scenes  as  have  been  hurriedly  described  in 
the  previous  chapter,  but  without  their  producing  any  effect, 
for  the  time,  upon  him.  His  brain  was  whirling  with  new 
thoughts.  Life  might  be  worth  something,  even  yet.  What 
if  some  dreadful  mistake  had  occurred,  after  all  ! — if  his  wife 
should  yet  be  innocent!  Oh,  to  get  to  New  York  without 
the  delay  of  one  moment ! — to  solve  the  mystery  which  Beenied 
so  much  thicker  than  it  had  ever  done  before  ! 

Among  the  forty  Zouaves  who  reported  to  Captain  Jack 


428  T  H  E      DAYS      OF      SHU  D  I)  Y . 

at  Fort  Ellsworth  on  Monday  night,  was  Haviland.  But  he 
did  not  remain.  One  glance  at  his  sad  face  and  one  hearing 
of  his  earnest  words:  M  I  mutt  go  to  New  York.  Captain,  im- 
mediately !"  procured  him  an  informal  leave  from  that  officer, 
then  becomofor  the  time  the  virtual  Commander  of  what  there 
Was  left  of  the  regiment.  The  same  hand  supplied  him  with 
clothes  to  replace  those  he  had  lost  on  the  Held,  and  money 
for  his  temporary  use.  Tuesday  morning  took  him  to  Wash- 
ington, then  one  mass  of  fright,  mourning,  inefficiency,  wounded 
soldiers,  beggared  contractors,  newspaper  correspondents 
penning  lies  and  guesses,  officers  without  commands,  com- 
mands without  officers,  drunkenness,  and  all  that  could  dis- 
grace the  capital  of  a  great  nation.  And  Wednesday  noon, 
the  24th  of  July,  landed  him  in  the  city  of  New  York,  which 
he  had  left  under  such  widely-different  circumstances  not 
quite  three  months  before,  and  where  Coffee  Joe,  the  news- 
boy, a  little  dirtier  and  more  dilapidated  than  we  have  seen 
him  in  the  spring,"met  him  at  the  ferry  with  the  sixteenth 
extra  of  that  day,  giving  two  more  lines  of  particulars  from 
the  lost  Held. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

The  Grief  and  Shame  that  followed  Bull  Run — Xew 
York  on  the  Twenty-second  of  July — How  the  City 
and  the  Country  mourned  for  thetr  supposed  Dead — 
aIaky  Haviland  at  Duffsboro — Aunt  Bessy's  Reminis- 
cences of  Amos  Haviland — Sad  News  from  the  Battle 
in  Virginia — How  the  Omens  thickened,  and  aIary 
Haviland  became  temporarily  a  "Widow. 

There  was  a  celebrated  painter  of  old,  who,  when  pressed 
to  attempt  a  certain  grand  picture  which  should  embody 
great  interest  and  command  the  attention  of  the  whole  world, 
refused  to  do  so  from  the  insufficiency  of  his  artistic  materials 
and   his  own  powers.      He  would  attempt  it,  he  said,  when 


T  H  K      1)  A  Y  S      0  F      SHOT)  I)  Y .  429 

the  blue  vault  of  heaven  was  supplied  him  for  a  canvas,  when 
the  light  of  sun  and  stars  and  the  forked  vividness  of  the 
lightning  were  all  given  him  as  colors  for  his  palette,  and 
when  Jove  should  inform  his  right  hand  with  his  own  tre- 
mendous power  for  their  handling.  Until  then,  his  canvas 
should  be  a  blank,  so  far  as  any  connection  with  that  great 
aubject  was  concerned.     . 

Very  nearly  the  same  disclamatory  remark  might  with  all 
propriety  be  made,  when  it  is  demanded  that  a  writer  should 
attempt  description  of  any  of  those  peculiarly  black  days 
which  have  fallen  in  the  midst  of  the  many  dark  ones  of  the 
republic — making  men's  hearts  sink  within  them  under  a  fear 
little  less  deadly  than  that  which  might  fall  in  the  sudden  and 
unwelcome  dawning  of  the  Morning  Star — clouding  the  brow 
with  a  black  shadow  through  which  the  sunlight  of  heaven 
could  no  more  shine  than  through  the  heavy  stones  that  lie 
closed  above  a  burial-vault — turning  love,  the  first  passion  of 
mankind,  into  a  hollow-  mockery,  and  avarice  of  \vealth  or 
power,  the  second,  into  a  weakness  not  worth  the  indulging — 
making  idleness  a  torture  and  occupation  impossible.  Days 
when  there  has  seemed  to  be  but  one  key-note  to  everything 
in  the  heaven  above  or  the  earth  beneath  :  "  Lost !  lost !" — 
just  as  through  every  touch  of  one  of  Hogarth's  greatest 
pictures  there  is  one  feeling  of  desolate  finality  running,  from 
the  sun  that  is  never  to  rise  again,  going  down  behind  the  sea, 
to  the  watch  dashed  to  pieces  by  the  dying  madman,  the 
murderer  swinging  ghastly  upon  his  gibbet,  the  hour-glass 
with  the  last  sands  just  dropping  out,  and  the  half-open  book 
with  its  last  page  bearing  the  significant  "  Finis."  Days 
which  have  made  the  nation  old  in  an  hour,  and  caused  its 
collective  hair  to  whiten  as  that  of  the  perilled  wretch  has 
sometimes  done  when  too  much  fear  and  agony  for  human 
endurance  were  crowded  within  a  limited  space.  Days  which 
have  "made  history"  with  fearful  rapidity,  and  which  have 
yet  within  them,  perhaps,  a  more  fearful  curse  than  any  yet 
developed,  in  the  temptation  to  "make  novels!" 

The  most  notable  of  these,  as  yet,  and  perhaps  the  most 
desolately  blind  and  hopeless  of  all,  was  tin1  .Monday  follow- 
ing the  defeat  of  the  Union  forces  at  Bull  Run.     The  Penin- 


430  T  II  E      I)  A  Y  S      OF      3  TI  O  I)  T)  Y. 

pular  repulse   from   before    Richmond,    Fredericksburg,    tho 
second  Ball  Run — nil  have  been  more  important  reverses,  in 

an  actual  military  point  of  view;  but  they  have  all  been  com- 
parative trifles  in  public  feeling,  because  they  have  all  fallen 
in  the  midst  of  extended  warlike  operations,  and  after  other 
reverses  and  amid  counterbalancing  victories,  destroying  their 
Otherwise  fearful  isolated  prominence.  Nations  are  sad  . 
horses,  in  the  capacity  to  bear  reverse  as  well  as  debt  :  they 
maybe  able  to  carry  a  mailed  warrior  after  long  practice,  but 
the  weight  of  a  child  worries  them  at  first,  and  they  do  not 
willing!}'  bear  even  the  empty  saddle  Itself.  Nations  are 
children,  with  the  same  necessity  for  growth  in  any  particular 
and  with  the  same  capaeity  for  discouragement,  exhibited  by 
the  boy  as  compared  to  the  man.  A  torn  coat  is  not  much 
to  a  man  of  years  and  experience,  who  has  worn  an  hundred 
different  coats  and  looks  forward  to  wearing  an  hundred  m< 
but  a  torn  coat  is  desolation  to  the  boy  just  verging  towards 
manhood,  who  has  been  for  the  first  time  permitted  trem- 
blingly to  overstep  the  bound  and  put  on  that  modern  sub- 
stitute for  the  ancient  toga  virilcr.  The  first  clearly  defined 
blast  of  the  trumpet  of  fame  tingles  through  the  nerves  more 
deliriously  than  any  after  utterance  ;  the  first  shaft  of  hostile 
criticism  wounds  more  deeply  than  any  bolt  that  can  be 
launched  at  the  man  grown  seasoned  to  abuse  ;  and  it  may 
be  that  the  first  love  torn  away  by  death  or  falsehood  leaves  a 
more  terrible  void  than  any  after  wrenching  away  of  the  whole 
race  could  create.  To  destroy  a  first  effort  in  any  direction 
is  little  less  than  a  "  slaughter  of  the  innocents" — that  first 
effort  is  so  truly  meant,  so  proudly  looked  upon,  so  over- 
valued. 

The  blow  of  the  defeat  at  Bull  Run  fell  with  peculiarly 
crushing  force  on  the  community,  because  it  marked  the 
failure  of  a  first  essay — the  slaughter  of  one  of  those 
national  "innocents."  The  battles  of  the  republic  had  always 
before  been  on  that  limited  scale  which  made  them  little  more 
than  skirmishes  in  comparison  with  the  great  conflicts  of 
Europe  and  Asia  ;  for  a  long  time,  before  the  breaking  out 
of  the  rebellion,  with  the  single  exception  of  the  short  con- 
test with   Mexico,  peace   had  been  our  constant  and  happy 


T  TT  E      DAT  S      0  F      SHODPY  4  °,  1 

national  condition.  The  answer  to  the  call  of  the  President 
and  the  forming  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  had  been  our 
first  trial  in  what  was  considered  war  on  a  grand  scale.  We 
bad  failed— miserably  failed.  Who  wonders  that  the  young- 
national  heart -should  have  tiled— that  the  omen  for  the  "future 
should  have,  been  held  discouraging— that  desolation  and 
despondency  should  have  settled  down  anew,  with  every  new 
detail  and  corroboration  of  the  great  misfortune,  oi>  the  hope 
that  had  been  before  so  unreasonably  and  even  childishlv 
buoyant  ? 

New  York  city  was  on-cc  more  prominent,  in  the  grief  that 
followed  Bull  Run,  and  .nowhere  else  could  the  spectator 
from  another  land  have  discovered  so  quickly,  how  sadly 
the  pall  had  fallen  over  and  shrouded  the  banner.  And  this, 
too,  had  a  warrant.  New  York  had  license  to  be  chief  mour- 
ner at  what  seemed,  for  the  moment  and  to  the  faint-hearted, 
the  nation's  burial.  No  fight  has  ever  since  taken  place,  in 
which  so  many  favorite  organizations  and  so  many  of  what 
may  be  called  "citizen  soldiery,"  have  taken  part,  Reference 
to  the  account  of  the  battle  heretofore  given  in  these  pages, 
as  well  as  to  common  memory,  will  afford  a  reminder  that 
with  the  exception  of  the  Seventh  and  two  or  three  other 
regiments  which  had  failed  to  recruit  in  sufficient  numbers 
for  taking  the  field,  the  whole  body  of  the  "household 
troops"  were  known  to  have  been  engaged  in  the  conflict. 
The  Eighth,  the  Seventy-first,  the  Twelfth,  the  Sixty-ninth, 
the  Seventy-ninth,  the  Brooklyn  Fourteenth,  the  Fire 
Zouaves— these  were  all  type  regiments  for  themselves  and 
others;  and  the  general  diffusion  of  sorrow  which  their 
"  cutting-up"  would  cause  may  well  be  imagined  even  by 
those  who  had  no  blood-kin  perilled  in  their  ranks.  For  the 
slaughter  of  the  "American  Guard"  and  its  brother  regiments, 
there  would  be  closed  doors  in  many  a  mercantile  house  and 
crape  at  the  bell-pulls  of  many  of  the  wealthy  dwellings 
of  the  metropolis  ;  over  the  decimation  of  the  "  fire-boys" 
there  would  be  half-masted  flags  and  mourning  draperies  on 
every  engine,  hose  and  carriage  house  within  the  lire-limits; 
and  to  the  "  Wirra  !  wfrra  !"  of  the  Irish  woman,  wide  over 
the  city,  mourning  a  son,  a  husband  or  a  brother  killed  in  the 


482  THE       DAYS      OF      SHuDDT. 

thinned  ranks  of  the  Sixty-ninth,  there  would  answer  the 
"  Och  hone-a-rie  !"  of  her  Scottish  sister,  crooning  the  same 
lament  over  her  dead  of  the  Seventy-ninth,  that  rung  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago  through  Lochabar  and  the  Braes  of  Appin. 

The  news  from  the  held — blended  truth  and  falsehood — 
came  precisely  in  such  a  shape  as  to  produce  the  worst  possi- 
ble feeling  of  anxiety  and  discouragement.  They  could  not 
have  been  .more  dexterously  managed,  had  some  fiend  taken 
a  contract  for  breaking  half  the  hearts  in  the  city.  First  the 
movement  was  heralded  with  such  loud  boasts  of  the  cer- 
taintv  of  the  Union  Army  routing  out  the  rebel  wolf  from  his 
lair  of  woods  and  batteries  at  Manasses,  that  the  hearers 
ceased  to  remember  that  there  were  chances  in  war  and  that 
victories  could  not  be  bespoken  like  coals  or  beef-steaks  ! 
Then  on  Saturday  and  again  on  Sunday,  came  intelligence  of 
the  taking  of  Fairfax  Court  House  and  the  affair  at  Black- 
burn's Ford,  the  latter  real^  a  repulse  to  the  Union  forces, 
in  effect,  but  both  gilded  with  all  the  mendacious  arts  of 
newspaper  letter-writers  who  seemed  to  think  that  boasts  and 
hollow  self-glorifications  were  the  most  saleable  commodities 
in  the  whole  market  of  intelligence,  and  made  to  appear  like 
signal  successes  that  only  needed  to  be  followed  up  to  anni- 
hilate the  rebels  and  "  crush  the  rebellion."  Sunday  was  es- 
pecially- prolific  in  "  victories"  that  had  never  been  won,  and 
skirmishes  in  which  the  advantage  was  skilfully  set  on  the 
wrong  side.  But  through  all  these  reports  ran  the  one  fea- 
ture— desperate  fighting.  If  the  Union  troops  had  so  far  been 
successful,  they  had  been  so  at  the  price  of  heavy  loss — there 
seemed  to  be  no  doubt  on  that  point.  This  made  the  public 
heart  sore,  though  not  discouraged.  For  the  victory  that 
had  been  promised,  even  the  price  of  the  blood  of  friends 
and  brothers  could  be  paid,  and  yet  no  repining.  But  the  con- 
dition of  success  was  inexorable  ;  and  there  was  a  lacerated 
spot  in  that  heart,  ready  to  receive  the  next  blow  that  was  so 
soon  to  fall. 

Monday  morning,  in  the  papers  of  that  date,  brought  the 
sensation  headings  of  a  great  battle  that  had  been  fought  on 
the  day  previous,  near  Manasses,  and  at  a  place  called  "  Bull's 
Run."     (It  needed  days  and  even  weeks  before  the  terminat- 


T  II  E      D  AYS      Of      S  H  O  D  I)  Y .  433 

ing  "  g"  was  dropped,  at  the  instance  of  some  who  happened 
to  have  known  the  topography  of  Virginia  in  the  days  of 
peace.)  The  letters  and  oilier  accounts  which  followed  these 
headings,  indicated  no  serious  reverse,  bat  something  like  a 
drawn  battle,  yet  the  old  burthen  of  the  song  again  repeated 
— desperate  fighting  and  heavy  loss.  Certain  regiments  of 
the  New  York  troops  were  particularized  as  having  made 
the  most  desperate  charges  and  defences,  leaving  one  quarter 
or  one  half  their  numbers,  as  the  case  might  be,  dead  on  the 
field.  The  Seventy-first,  the  Sixty-ninth,  the  Seventy-ninth 
and  the  Fire  Zouaves,  as  pet  regiments,  were  particularly 
spoken  of,  their  valor  lauded  while  their  whole  corps  were 
slaughtered — by  the  reporters  !  And  even  yet  the  public 
feeling  endured  and  did  not  murmur,  however  much  it 
mourned.     Even  this  for  victory  ! 

The  morning  grew  later,  and  the  bulletins  began  to  bear 
startling  additions  to  the  news  of  the  regular  editions.  The 
rebels  had  gained  a  slight  advantage  on  Sunday  afternoon — 
the  Union  troops  had  fallen  back  from  the  attack.  Still  the 
same  undertone — desperate  fighting  and  heavy  loss.  The 
general  heart  began  to  be  discouraged.  All  that  heavy 
slaughter,  after  all,  without  result — with  even  disadvantage 
to  the  Union  arms  ! 

An  hour  or  two  still  later — and  then  burst  the  peal  of 
woful  thunder  that  shocked  and  stunned  all  ears.  Extras 
made  their  appearance,  and  the  anxious  crowds  around  the 
bulletins  separated  to  read  the  words  that  seemed  the  death 
knell  of  the  republic.  Not  a  drawn  battle — not  a  slight  re- 
pulse— not  a  defeat — but  a  total  and  irredeemable  rout ;  the 
Union  troops  flying  like  frightened  sheep,  disorganized  and 
disheartened,  back  upon  Washington,  and  the  victorious  and 
infuriated  rebels  slaughtering  them  at  will  !  Whole  regi- 
ments of  favorite  troops,  not  decimated,  but  annihilated. 
Every  corps — the  whole  army — cut  to  pieces.  Not  enough 
left  to  form  the  nucleus  of  another  army — not  enough  to  offer 
an  effectual  defence  of  Washington,  where  the  Confederates 
would  certainly  be  stabling  their  horses  in  the  Capitol  and 
burning  the  public  records  in  the  Departments,  before  the 
rising  of  another  sun  ! 
27 


4  ;U  THE      BAYS      OF      SHOLDY, 

Tales  of  horrible  cruelty  and  vet  more  horrible  butchery. 
Squads  of  ambulances  fired  upon  by  whole  parks  of  rebel 
artillery,  and  all  the  wounded  they  contained  blown  to  infini- 
tesimal fragments.  Disabled  men  begging  tor  quarter,  but 
bayoneted  by  hundreds  and  even  by  thousands,  by  the  infu- 
riated conquerors.  The  dead  hacked  in  pieces  with  sabres,  as 
so  many  bogs  might  have  been,*  and  their  very  quarters  dis- 
tributed among  different  rebel  corps  as  trophies.  Indian  bar- 
barities outdone,  and  the  very  atrocities  of  the  Sepoys  at 
Meerut  and  Cawnpore  dwarfed  into  insignificance.  Loss — 
defeat — panic — hopeless  ruin — slaughter  | 

Such  were  the  reports.  We  know,  to-day.  how  grossly 
exaggerated  they  were,  as  the  previous  reports  of  the  suc- 
cesses had  been.  "We  know,  now,  how  the  Union  troops  won 
the  battle  before  they  lost  it,  and  that  the  panic  only  com- 
pleted what  outnumbering  had  begun.  We  know,  now,  how 
small  was  the  loss  of  almost  every  regiment  in  the  Union 
army,  compared  to  what  troops  had  often  suffered  before  in 
other  services,  and  what  others  have  since  suffered  in  our 
own.  We  know,  too,  that  while  too  many  of  the  allegations 
of  cruelty  made  against  the  rebels  were  disgracefully  true, 
and  while  many  must  remain  a  damning  stain  against  them  to 
the  last  dav  of  recorded  time, — many  of  them  were  the  miser- 
able exaggerations  of  the  frightened  or  the  more  miserable  tales 
of  the  unscrupulous.  We  have  seen  one  of  the  Captains  who 
was  hacked  into  four  pieces  on  the  field  (according  to  these 
reports)  come  back  from  the  "Richmond  prisons  without  any 
marks  of  that  cruel  operation.  We  have  winnowed  out  the 
wheat  from  the  chaff  of  voluminous  misrepresentation,  and 
know  very  nearly  the  truth  of  the  story  of  Bull  Run,  which 
would  never  have  wrought  us  half  the  injury  that  it  has  done, 
at  home  and  abroad,  if  we  had  not  been  frightened  children 
yelling  at  the  bugaboo  of  a  servant. 

But  all  these  reports  were  terrible  reality,  then.  They  had 
their  work  of  extracting  tears  and  groans,  and  they  did  it. 
Oh  Rachel  of  the  nation,  how  you  did  mourn  that  day.  for 
your  children  ! — how  you  did  shed  tears  of  blood  in  response 
to  those  kindred  drops  which  seemed  to  have  been  poured  out 
so  unavailinglv  on  the  battle-field  ! 


T  H  K      I)  A  Y  S      0  F      S  II  O  D  I>Y.  435 

What  a  day  was  that  in  the  city  of  New  York  !— and  who 
that  passed  through  ran  over  forget  it!  The  day  after  Sum- 
ter had  been  a  spasm — this  was  an  agony.  The  city  lying 
beneath  the  blazing  heat  of  mid-summer — men  panting  for 
very  breath  in  the  streets.  The  country  Beeming  to  lie  under 
the  blaze  of  the  wrath  of  God,  and  panting  for  its  very  life. 
Business  suspended — sellers  with  no  wish  to  sell — buyers  with 
no  heart  to  buy.  Men  meeting  with  inquiries  of  sad  omen, 
and  parting  without  comfort.  More  hands  wrung  in  silence 
or  with  broken  words,  than  had  ever  been  in  any  one  day 
since  the  birth  of  the  nation.  Frenzied  inquirers  after  friends 
and  relatives  known  to  have  been  in  the  lost  battle ;  no 
answers  of  consolation  even  from  those  who  had  reached  the 
city  from  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  Xo  pride  in  the  past, — 
not  even  the  pride  of  believing  that  our  troops  had  deserved 
victory  if  they  had  failed  to  secure  it ;  no  sunlight  in  the 
future,  with  those  ill-omened  birds,  false  and  unscrupulous 
reports,  darkening  the  air.  Anxiety — discouragement — deso- 
lation— mourning  without  certainty  of  death  but  without  hope 
of  life — everywhere  !  God  in  His  infinite  mercy  grant  that 
that  blackest  of  all  the  dark  days  of  the  nation  may  never 
find  a  parallel  ! 

But  the  terrible  news  disseminated  on  the  22d  of  July, 
reached  other  hearts  than  those  that  throbbed  within  the  great 
cities.  The  blow  did  not  fall  so  soon,  by  a  few  hours,  in  the 
more  quiet  and  isolated  country  sections,  but  it  came  with 
no  less  crushing  force  from  its  short  delay.  The  stony  streets 
of  the  cities  had  not  alone  echoed  to  the  tread  of  the  armed 
men  who  marched  away  to  the  campaign  that  was  ending  so 
disastrously :  the  green  lanes  of  the  country  had  known  the 
same  gathering  and  departure,  and  the  plough  and  the  scythe 
waited  there  for  the  returning  hand,  even  as  the  counter  and 
the  workshop  waited  in  the  town.  There  was  to  be  wailing 
along  the  green  lanes  as  well  as  along  the  stony  streets — . 
fear,  discouragement  and  indignation  around  the  doors  of  the 
little  country  tavern  as  well  as  under  the  porches  of  the 
Astor  House  and  the  Continental. 

Mary  Haviland  had  been  just  a  week  at  the  little  farm- 
house at  Duffsboro,  when  the  news  of  Bull  Run  broke  over 


•ioG  THE      D  A  Y  S      0  P      SHODDY. 

the  land.  The  reader,  not  purposely  but  unavoidably  kept 
in  the  dark  as  to  her  whereabouts  after  leaving  the  house  on 
East  Forty-eighth  Street,  that  terrible  night,  may  before  this 

time  have  suspected  that  she  had  gone  home — home  to  the 
place  of  her  birth  and  the  sheltering  arms  of  Aunt   i 
White,     She  had  clone  so,  indeed.     Protected  by  the  polico- 

man  at  the  corner,  and  accompanied  by  him  to  the  residence 
of  her  family  physician  on  Sixth  Avenue,  she  had  found  ivst 
and  refuge  there,  and  on  the  Monday  following  gone  down  to 

the  little  farm-house,  to  be  received  with  almost  delirious 
pleasure  and  pity  by  the  good  old  lady.  All  her  griefs  had 
been  poured  into  the  sympathizing  ears  of  Aunt  Bessy,  and 
they  had  all  been  consoled  by  the  assurance  of  that  model 
aunt  who  should  have  been  mother  to  half  a  generation,  thai 
"wickedness  would  yet  be  punished  and  those  who  truly 
loved  and  trusted  be  once  more  made  happy."  Then  Kate 
had  come  down  on  the  Wednesday  following,  for  reason's 
which  will  be  hereafter  fully  understood;  and  between  the 
two  strangely  separated  by  misunderstanding,  explanations 
had  been  made  which  sent  them  into  each  other's  arms  with 
sobs  and  kisses — the  school-mistress  humble  and  abashed, 
Mary  sweet-tempered  and  forgiving.  Not  even  Kate  could 
tell  the  wife  how  much  she  had  misjudged  her  husband,  as 
she  could  not  know  the  secret  of  the  lost  letters  and  the  false- 
hood of  the  malicious  reports  atfecting  his  character.  But 
she  had  been  able  to  say  enough  to  the  wife,  from  intercourse 
personally  held  with  Burtnett  Haviland  by  letter,  and  in  the 
midst  of  her  confessions  that  "she  had  probably  half-broken 
his  heart  by  meddling  with  what  she  had  much  better  left 
alone — doing  what  she  would  never  do  again  until  she  grew 
old  enough  to  be  Methusaleh's  grandmother  !" — to  satisfy 
Mary  that  her  husband's  silence  had  been  the  result  of  neither 
guilt  nor  coldness,  to  show  her  how  false  her  own  position 
had  probably  grown  to  be  in  his  eyes,  and  to  make  her  yearn- 
ing love  and  burning  desire  for  his  return  even  a  thousand 
times  deeper  and  more  intense  than  they  could  have  been 
without  the  knowledge  of  that  misunderstanding.  One  of 
the  first  fruits  of  all  this,  in  fact,  had  been  the  penning  of  a 
letter  by  Mary,  addressed   to   her  husband   at  Alexandria, 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  437 

which,  had  it  readied  him  before  his  departure,  would  have 
scut  him  into  battle  with  a  different  care  for  his  life  from  that 

which  be  at  first  exhibited.  But,  as  the  reader  well  knows, 
thai  letter  could  only  have  reached  Alexandria  after  the  de- 
parture of  the  Zouave  Company;  and  it  probably  lay  there 
waiting  for  him,  with  full  explanations  which  would  have 
made  him  the  happiest  man  in  the  world,  at  the  moment  when 
he  rushed  insanely  back  through  that  town,  on  his  way  to 
New  York  and  the  quest  for  his  wife,  after  the  battle  !  So 
vigorously  and  persistently  we  often  strain  body  and  brain, 
in  the  distant  pursuit  of  that  which  lies  precisely  under  our 
own  noses ! 

How  stronger  and  stronger  every  day,  then,  in  the  heart 
of  the  puzzled  and  anxious  but  ever-loving  little  wife,  grew 
this  desire  for  her  husband's  return,  which  had  only  been  a 
dull  pain  before  the  late  events,  but  now  became  a  torture  ! 
AVhat  if  he  should  never  come  back— if  her  letter  should  fail 
to  reach  him  and  he  wander  away,  in  some  of  the  army  move- 
ments, where  communication  was  impossible  !  What  if  that 
which  had  before  been  only  a  dim  shadow  of  evil,  should 
change  to  be  a  terrible  reality — if  he  should  be  killed  without 
ever  knowing-,  while  in  life,  how  truly  her  heart  beat  for  him 
alone,  how  false  had  been  every  word  that  set  a  shadow  be- 
tween them  ! 

Bonnie  Kate,  the  busiest,  the  most  cheerful  and  the  mad- 
dest minx  that  ever  puzzled  a  village  or  threw  new  life  into  a 
dulled  circle  in  the  great  city — would  have  been  an  excellent 
medium  for  the  elevation  of  Mary's  spirits,  and  would,  in  fact, 
so  have  kept  her  in  pleasant  confusion  as  to  afford  little  time 
for  despondent  thought. — but  that  she  had  really  so  humbled 
her  own  position  before  her  cousin's  wife,  by  her  terrible 
mistakes  and  misunderstandings,  as  to  be  placed  temporarily 
on  what  might  be  called  the  "  retired  list"  in  the  service  of 
mischief,  or,  as  she  herself  expressed  it,  "obliged  to  be  good 
when  she  did  not  wish  to,  one  bit  !"  And  Aunt  Bessy,  ever 
good  and  hopeful,  might  have  been  found  the  quite -sufficient 
consoler,  had  a  shadow  not  rested  over  her  heart  and  the 
household,  in  the  memory  of  the  late  death  of  Amos  llavi- 
land,  on  whose  grave  the  young  grass  had  scarcely  yet  begun 


438  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

to  spring,  and  whose  shade  scarcely  yet  seemed  to  have  de- 
parted from  the  doors  it  had  unobtrusively  haunted. 

Aunt  Bessy  would  talk  of  him,  not  alone  to  Kate,  who  had 
like  herself  been  with  him  and  known  him  to  the  last,  but  to 
Mary,  who  had  for  years  only  seen  him  during  very  brief 
.  though  she  yet  retained  enough  recollection  of  him  to 
make  the  knowledge  that  he  had  passed  away,  even  in  his 
century  of  old  age,  a  saddening  one.  And  this,  which  kept 
alive  the  blended  relations  of  war  and  death,  was  by  no 
means  the  mental  pabulum  on  which  the  nervous  and  worried 
woman,  who  had  so  lately  been  tried  beyond  her  whole 
strength,  should  have  been  fed  at  that  juncture.  "  Misery 
loves  company,"'  of  course,  as  the  old  proverb  has  it;  but  it 
does  not  follow  that  misery  always  grows  less  poignant  by  the 
association  ;  and  while  it  might  be  sadly  jarring  to  the  nerves 
of  the  widow  of  a  week,  to  be  thrown  suddenly  into  the 
society  of  half  a  dozen  brilliant  and  laughing  men  and  women 
of  the  world,  with  wit,  music  and  rattle  alike  at  the  ends  of 
their  tongues  and  fingers,  yet  she  might  be  quite  as  well 
prepared,  at  the  end  of  a  given  period,  to  meet  her  lonely 
fate  and  do  battle  with  the  world,  as  if  that  period  had  been 
passed  in  the  company  of  half  a  dozen  people  with  long 
faces,  black  dresses,  white  handkerchiefs,  and  who  managed 
to  excite  each  other  to  sympathetic  tears  and  sobs  every 
half  hour. 

Poor  Mary  Haviland.  driven  into  new  anxiety  with  refer- 
ence to  her  absent  husband,  found  little  to  buoy  up  her  spirits, 
in  the  temporary  humility  and  silence  of  saucy  Kate  or  the 
sadly  patriotic  conversation  of  Aunt  Bessy.  Xo  matter — the 
end  was  coming,  and  coming  rapidly. 

On  Sunday,  the  21st  of  July,  at  meeting  at  the  little  village 
church  at  Duffsboro,  the  ladies  from  the  old  farm-house  learned 
by  conversation  among  the  groups  gathered  at  the  door  before 
service,  that  newspapers  had  come  down  from  the  city  the 
evening  before — that  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  advanced 
■ — that  a  battle  (represented  as  a  Union  victory)  had  been 
fought  on  Thursday — that  another  and  heavier  battle  was  un- 
avoidable and  might  even  then  be  in  progress  or  decided.  It 
is  now  well  known  that  the  battle  was   at  that  very  hour  in- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  4o9 

deed  in  progress,  and  that  then  (half-past  ten  to  eleven)  the 
whole  body  of  the  Federal  troops  were  first  being  hurled 
against  the  enemy,  so  that  the  spiritual  ears  of  the  worship- 
pers, could  they  have  been  keen  enough,  might  have  heard 
sounding  over  the  hum  of  conversation  at  the  door,  and'after- 
wards  floating  in  at  the  open  windows  to  blend  with  the 
Sleepy  drone  of  that  summer  noon  discourse,  the  thunder  of 
the  cannon  then  crashing  over  the  field  of  Manasses. 

There  may  have  been  an  hundred  hearts  in  that  little  con- 
gregation, beating  with  fear  and  anxiety  for  those  dear  to 
them  and  exposed  to  the  shock  of  battle  ;  but  it  is  only  our 
province  to  measure  the  heart-beats  of  three  in  that  whole 
number.  Aunt  Bessy  folded  upon  her  breast  the  hands  still 
so  fair,  when  she  heard  that  the  two  armies  were  actually 
meeting  in  the  first  battle, — bent  down  her  head  and  uttered 
a  prayer  that  the  heavens  heard  though  the  ear  of  man  lost 
it — a  prayer  for  perilled  lives  and  for  the  land.  Kate  Havi- 
land  trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf,  then  shook  off  the  feeling, 
took  home  to  her  heart  that  peculiarly  Yankee  confidence 
which  knows  that  Us  own  must  conquer,  and  waited  calmly 
for  what  was  to  follow.  Mary  Haviland  met  the  issue  very 
differently  from  either.  Unnerved  and  overtasked  as  she  had 
before  been,  her  heart  seemed'to  die  within  her  and  lie  thence- 
forth in  her  bosom  a  dull,  cold  lump  of  lead  or  stone  !  The 
previous  four  days  had  been  to  her  an  omen  of  her  husband's 
death — he  \\*is  a  member  of  that  Fire  Zouave  regiment  so 
depended  upon,  in  advance,  for  deeds  of  daring  whenever 
called  upon  to  perform  them,  and  so  likely  to  be  sent  into  the 
very  thickest  of  the  conflict — he  would  fall  if  he  had  not  fallen, 
and  the  hopes  of  her  whole  life  would  expire  with  him.  Yet, 
as  of  old,  she  determined  to  suffer  in  silence  ;  and  she  did  not 
even  tell  to  Kate  or  Aunt  Bessy,  as  they  went  homeward 
from  the  little  church,  how  deadly  was  the  fear  that  oppressed 
her.  But  nature  had  its  revenge  on  suppression,  as  usual ; 
her  pillow  was  that  night  wet  with  hopeless  tears  ;'and  only 
a  mockery  of  sleep  came  to  her,  clasping  little  Pet  close  in  her 
arms,  just  before  the  robins  began  to  sing  in  the  peach-trees 
at  dawn, 

Slowlv  and  steadily  fell  the  omen?,  each  worse  than  the  one 


410  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

preceding.     The  afternoon  boat  of  Monday  brought  down  to 

Buffsboro  some  of  the  extras  containing  the  very  worst  an- 
nouncements of  that  day  of  the  lost  battle,  the  panic  and  the 
rout.  They  relieved  the  whole  country  round  with  the  news 
that  all  the  regiments  containing  men  from  that  section  had 
been  held  in  reserve  at  (Yntreville,  and  that  consequently 
there  would  be  no  mourning  homes  in  the  neighborhood.  But 
what  was  the  "  relief''  brought  by  that  extra  to  Mary  Havi- 
land  ?  The  certainty  that  the  Fire  Zouaves  had  been  in  the 
very  front  of  the  battle — that  they  had  suffered  beyond  almost 
any  other  regiment  in  the  army — that  they  had  been  the  sub. 
ject  of  the  worst  cruelties  of  the  victorious  rebels,  their  men 
shot  down  and  bayoneted  in  cold  blood,  quarter  refused, 
their  wounded  fired  upon  in  the  ambulances,  one  of  their  Cap- 
tains quartered  and  his  very  body  carried  away  piecemeal  ! 
What  hope  was  there  left  for  Burtnett  Haviland  ? — what  for 
his  wretched,  hopeless,  miserable  wife  ?  Thenceforth,  spite 
of  the  efforts  of  Aunt  Bessy  and  Kate,  who  tried  to  play  con- 
solers while  their  own  hearts  were  full  of  fear  and  grief,  the 
poor  wife,  tearless  but  suffering  a  thousand  times  more  than 
she  could  have  been  with  the  tears  flowing  freely,  rather  stag- 
gered than  moved  about  the  farm-house  ;  and  when  the 
went  to  her  lonely  bed  that  night,  though  she  slept  from 
sheer  exhaustion,  sleep  ^vas  no  mercy,  so  horribly  came  up 
in  her  dreams  all  the  imaginary  incidents  of  the  lost  battle, 
thunder,  cries,  bloodshed — a  dark  cloud  in  the  foreground  of 
which  her  husband  seemed  ever  struggling  with  a  host  of 
foes,  crying  for  mercy,  fainting,  bleeding,  dying. 

And  yet  there  was  one  wretched,  desolate  hope.  Xot  all 
could  be  killed,  even  in  the  doomed  regiment.  The  one  dear- 
est of  all  the  world  to  her  might  have  escaped,  even  if  only 
twenty,  or  ten,  or  five,  should  be  left  to  tell  the  melancholy 
story.  Oh,  if  he  should  be  but  alive,  however  wounded, 
maimed,  a  mere  wreck  of  the  glorious  type  of  manhood  who 
had  gone  away  from  her  ! — how  would  her  whole  future  life 
be  one  lung  aspiration  of  thankfulness  to  Heaven  for  even 
that  mercy  !  Poor  wife  ! — not  even  that  sad  hope  was  to  be 
allowed  her,  while  passing  through  what  the  reader  knows 
to  have  been  only  an  imaginary  bereavement,  but  as.  terrible 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  441 

to  her,  fur  the  time,  as  if  the  most  fatal  reality  had  laid  hidden 
behind  it. 

It  was  at  nearly  noon  on  Tuesday  that  the  young  wife, 
silent  and  tearless  in  the  agony  of  her  anxiety,  sat  with  little 
Pet  on  her  lap,  at  one  of  the  shaded  windows  overlooking  her 
porch  and  the  road,  twining-  her  fingers  absently  in  the  silken 
hair  of  her  child,  and*  her  eyes  looking  out  on  vacancy  in 
that  fixed  stare  which  is  so  near  to  the  glare  of  the  maniac. 
vVunt  Bessy  was  in  the  unromantic  act  of  rinsing  white  clothes 
from  the  wash  of  the  day  before,  beside  the  old  well  with  its 
crank  and  bucket,  a  few  feet  from  the  porch,  to  the  left. 
Kate  was  busied  in  the  kitchen  behind  the  passage,  in  the 
preparations  for  dinner,  the  appetizing  savors  of  which  floated 
wide  through  the  house. 

Suddenly  Mary  Haviland  heard  a  voice  in  conversation 
with  Aunt  Bessy  at  the  well.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  man — 
some  one  had  come  up  by  the  little  path  eastward  at  the  end 
of  the  porch.  The  wife  summoned  interest  enough  to  turn 
her  eyes  more  closely  in  that  direction,  and  then  a  deadly 
faintness  seized  her.  She  saw  a  man,  whose  face  she  did  not 
recognize,  in  the  uniform  of  a  soldier — blue  Zouave  jacket  and 
pants,  with  a  red  fez,  but  his  face  browned  almost  to  the  color 
of  red  earthen,  his  uniform  dingy  and  discolored,  and  his  right 
arm  slung  to  his  side  by  a  bloody  handkerchief  depending 
from  his  neck.  That  last  mark  told  of  a  partieipant  in  some 
battle — the  man  might  be  conversing  with  her  aunt  of  the 
great  disaster  from  which  he  had  himself  escaped — she  must 
hear  the  words  that  were  spoken.  She  staggered  to  her  feet, 
dragging  little  Pet  by  the  hand,  and  moved  to  the  door  open- 
ing upon  the  porch,  where  she  could  both  see  and  hear  dis- 
tinctly. She  might  almost  as  well  have  moved  herself,  as 
she  knew  the  moment  after,  into  point-blank  range  of  one  of 
the  rifled  cannon  that  had  been  so  fatal  on  the  heights  of 
Manasses  two  days  before  ! 

The  man,  as  she  could  not  be  aware,  was  a  scape-grace 
member  of  one  of  the  best  families  of  the  neighborhood,  well 
known  to  Aunt  Bessy,  most  of  the  time  resident  in  the  city, 
but  coining  home  often  enough  to  be  remembered.  Xor  could 
she  know  from  the  changed  uniform  that  he  was  a  Zouave — 


4i2  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

a  member  of  the  very  corps  which  had  contained  her  husband 
— one  of  the  fugitives  from  the  defeat  and  the  regiment,  com- 
ing home  to  be  nursed  with  his  wounded  arm.  But  what  the 
eye  failed  to  reveal  the  lips  told  too  Boon  ami  too  suddenly. 
The  young  wife-  saw  that  Aunt  Bessy  had  dropped  the  clothes 
from  her  grasp  and  was  starting  back  with  upraised  hands,  in 
surprise  and  terror.  Half-fainting,  yet  determined,  she  list- 
ened to  what  followed  : 

"  It  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock,  not  far  from  Smi- 
ley Church,"  she  heard  the  soldier  say.  "  We  were  trying  to 
support  Ayres'  battery — he  and  I  belonged  to  the  same  com- 
pany, you  know — but  the  rebs  were  too  many  for  us.  all  the 
time.  He  was  up  and  all  right,  one  minute— the  next  there 
was  a  perfect  rain  of  balls  over  the  battery  and  ail  around  us, 
and  almost  at  the  same  moment  a  squadron  of  the  rebel  borse 
followed  the  fire.  I  was  hit  here,  in  the  arm,  pretty  badly, 
hut  did  not  fall — only  staggered  against  one  of  the  wheels  of  a 
piece.  He  was  not  more  than  six  feet  from  me  when  the  fire 
went  by  and  the  horse  followed.  I  saw  him  fall,  and  saw  the 
horses  go  over  him.  The  next  moment  the  dead  were  four 
or  live  deep,  there,  and  there  was  no  living  man  at  the  bottom 
of  the  heap — I  know  that  I*1 

''  You  are  sure  that  you  could  not  be  mistaken — that  it  was 
my  poor  boy  that  was  killed  ?"  she  heard  Aunt  Bessy  gasp. 

"J  wish  I  wasn't!"'  she  heard  the  soldier  reply.  "I  tell 
you,  Mrs.  White,  that  we  belonged  to  the  same  company.  I 
thought  I  ought  to  stop  and  tell  you.  There  was  not  a  bet- 
ter fellow  in  the  regiment  than  Burt  Haviland— — '' 

The  informant  went  no  further,  for  at  that  instant,  from  the 
piazza,  went  up  a  cry  of  mortal  pain  and  agony  that  sent  Kate 
flying  from  the  kitchen  and  Aunt  Bessy  and  the  soldier  hurry- 
ing to  the  spot.  Mary  Haviland  had  not  fallen  insensible,  as 
some  might  have  done  under  similar  circumstances.  She  had 
not  even  clung  to  any  support,  but  stood  rigidly  erect,  her 
eyes  set  in  a  fearful  spasm,  her  hand  yet  grasping  that  of  the 
frightened  child,  and  her  lips  repeating  that  terrible  cry  which 
seemed  to  embody  all  the  torture  of  an  overwrought  body  and 
a  breaking  heart.  Her  lips  uttered  no  word  as  they  led  ber 
in;   and  she  seemed  rigid  and  motionless  but  by  no  means' 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  443 

fifefees;  as   they  laid   her   on  her  bed,  poor  little  Pet  crying 
over  her  ''  tiek  Mamma  !'' 

And  that  spasm  lasted  for  more  than  two  hours.  Xo  stim- 
ulant that  the  village  doctor,  suddenly  called  over  by  a  farm- 
hand on  horseback,  could  administer,  had  any  effect  towards 
rousing  her;  no  anodyne,  when  he  adopted  that  mode  of 
treatment,  had  power  to  throw  her  into  sleep.  The  doctor 
sat  by  her  almost  in  despair,  in  doubt  whether  insanity  if 
not  death  from  syncope,  might  not  be  the  result ;  Aunt  Bessy 
and  Kate,  who  knew  that  she  must  have  heard  all,  ministered 
beside  her  like  human  angels  as  they  were,  and  tried  to  utter 
broken  words  of  consolation  :  but  still  there  was  no  reply  and 
no  movement  *of  the  set  eyes.  Then  the  spasm  seemed  to 
have  spent  itself.  The  watchers,  late  in  the  afternoon,  saw 
her  turn  her  head  for  the  first  time,  recognize  little  Pet,  beckon 
her  to  the  side  of  the  bed  and  clasp  her  to  her  breast,  break- 
ing meanwhile  into  tears  and  sobs  that  seemed  to  rend  her 
very  being. 

"  She  is  saved  !"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  low  voice.  "There 
is  no  danger  now." 

"  Thank  God  I"  said  the  reverent  lips  of  Aunt  Bessy,  while 
Kate  went  up  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  kissed  the  white  forehead 
of  the  sufferer,  and  then  remained  smoothing  down  the  blonde 
hair  as  if  she  could  communicate  life  and  consolation  through 
that  gentlest  and  tenderest  of  mediums. 

The  doctor  was  right — the  worst  was  over.  Mary  Havi- 
land,  bereaved,  as  she  supposed,  of  her  husband,  had  deter- 
mined to  live  for  her  child,  and  that  agonized  clasp  of  her 
last  link  to  life  had  been  the  first  evidence  of  returned  com- 
posure. Within  an  hour  afterwards  she  arose  from  her  bed, 
calm,  but  oh,  how  unutterably  miserable  !  Then  it  was, 
thought  flowing  iu  its  accustomed  channels,  that  she  began  to 
sutler  the  full  measure  of  rational  grief.  Then  it  was  that 
she  realized  the  whole  extent  of  her  bereavement,  and  knew 
how  many  more  and  worse  arrows  of  agony  fate  could  add, 
and  how  many  more  human  capacity  could  endure,  than  even 
those  experienced  eight  days  before,  on  the  night  of  her 
persecution  and  her  flight. 

And  here,  lor  a  little  time,  plunged  in  a  grief  that  had  ex- 


411  T  II  E      I)  A  Y  S      OF      S  11  0  D  I>  Y. 

hausted  its  worst  and  most  threatening  features  wiiiiin  a  fow 
liours  of  its  falling,  and  yet  a  grief  that  would  probably 
remain  un  assuaged  until  the  last  day  of  her  life — herfc, 
dering  blindly  in  the  thick  darkness  of  be  re  are  mi 
petted,  caressed  and  consoled  by  the  three  dear  ones  still  left 
her,  that  lung  despair  would  have  been  impossible — here,  for 
a  very  little  time,  we  leave  the  young  wife.  The  light  was 
coming,  as  we  know — it  was  nearly  at  hand.  That  day  was 
Tuesday.  Wednesday,  as  has  already  been  recorded,  brought 
Bnrtnett  Ilaviland  to  the  city  of  Xew  York.  And  there- 
after, even  we  of  this  writing  and  readingunust  wait.  Only 
a  faint  and  feeble  picture  has  here  been  given  of  the  trials 
and  griefs  of  one  little  wife  who  had  given  up  her  husband 
to  the  service  of  his  country  and-  believed  that  she  had 
parted  with  him  forever  in  life  :  what  pen  could  depict  the 
trials  and  the  sorrows  which  have  fallen  upou  so  mauy  thou- 
sands of  Union  wives  actually  bereaved,  and  so  many 
thousands  of  Union  homes  permanently  desolated,  during  all 
the  long  struggle  ? 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 

Hurrying  to  the  End — An  Official  Visit  to  Mrs.  Ful- 

lerton,  and  some  strange  operations  between  the 
Millionaire  and  Kate — What  the  Teacher  had  found 
in  the  Drawer — A  "Burst  Up" — Burtnett  Hayilaxd 
looking  for  a  Wife — Sarah  Sanderson  as  a  Cat  in  the 
Garret — Little  Tim  in  play  once  more — A  Reunion. 

It  is  nothing  uncommon  in  geography,  as  the  travellers  in 
many  lands  can  tell  us,  to  find  some  little  stream  creeping 
lazily  down  out  o-f  the  hills  and  through  the  meadows, 
gathering  breadth  and  force  at  every  mile  of  its  way  and  yet 
displaying  no  sudden  change,  until  it  has  at  last  become  a 
rapid,   rushing   river,   resiolless  in   the   volume  of  ils  waters 


T  n  E      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  445 

and  terrible  in  the  momentum  of  its  current,  before  which 
nothing-  of  human  erection  can  stand,  and  the  only  manage- 
ment of  which  is  to  be  found  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  its 
might.  Almost  as  often  it  happens  that  a  stream  of  circum- 
stances in  personal  history,  dallying  and  delaying  for  moot  lis 
and  even  for  years,  arrives  one  day  at  a  point  beyond  which 
there  is  no  delay  and  after  which  it  sweeps  on  to  the  end 
with  a  rapidity  inconceivable  to  those  who  have  so  long  idly 
watched  the  tardy  movements  of  the  past, — bearing  lives, 
fortunes,  characters,  like  straws  on  its  current,  and  closing 
in  an  hour  what  seemed  likely  to  endure  for  a  century.     If 

"The  mills  o'  the  gods  grind  slow,  but  grind  exceeding  fine," 

there  are  times  when  the  wheel  revolves  slowly,  and  others 
when  it  whirls  and  clashes  so  rapidly  as  to  dazzle  and  deafen 
the  beholder  ;  and  Immar  the  Inevitable,  swinging  his  great 
flail  in  the  garner  of  fate,  sometimes  brings  down  that* 
weapon  on  the  bodies  and  brains  of  the  condemned  Irmenidea 
with  slow  and  measured  strokes  that  can  be  distinctly  heard 
and  counted  as  they  fall ;  then  anon  breaks  into  a  very  rage 
of  justice  and  whirls  that  power  of  destruction  so  rapidly 
that  only  the  thunder  of  the  aggregated  blows  meets  the  ear 
and  only  one  constant  flashing  glitter  of  the  polished  oak  is 
seen  through  the  gloom  that  wraps  the  universe.  Something 
of  the  same  charapter  of  increased  rapidity  must  now  be 
assumed  by  this  narration,  which  only  in  that  way  can  keep 
pace  with  the  celerity  of  the  closing  events  it  records  ;  and 
all  those  events  must  be  thrown  into  the  intimate  though  not 
involved  relations  of  two  closing  chapters. 

All  this  while,  though  it  has  been  more  than  once  shown 
that  Kate  Ilaviland  had  abandoned  her  employment  in  the 
city  and  returned  to  Duffsboro,  no  clue  has  been  given  to 
the  reasons  which  moved  that  slightly  erratic  and  cometary 
person  to  leave  an  engagement  which  she  had  at  least  pre- 
tended to  take  for  a  considerable  period,  and  to  return  to  a 
vicinity  where  her  clear  profits  at  school-teaching,  according 
to  her  own  arithmetic,  footed  up  the  magnificent  figure  of 
twenty  York  shillings  a  year  !  Any  omission  of  that  charac- 
ter must  now  be  repaired  ;  and  in  the  explanation  not  only 
her  own  fortunes  but  those  of  the  familv  of  which  she  had 


446  THE      I>  A  Y  S    •  O  F      S  H  O  P  D  Y . 

been  for  a  little  less  than  three  months  an  outside  member, 
will  be  found  involved. 

A  somewhat  strange  scene  was  presented  on  Wednesday' 
afternoon,  the  17th  of  July  (some  days  before  many  of  the 
occurrences  already  narrated),  in  the  drawing-room  of  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Fullerton  on  East  Twenty-third  Street — that 
drawing-room  on  the  first  floor  which  has  long  since 
incidentally  described,  but  in  which  none  of  the  incidents  of 
this  relation  have  as  yet  actually  occurred.  That  "  best  room 
in  the  house"  has  its  mission  now,  for  the  house  has  a  new 
visitor. 

At  the  opened  piano  on  that  occasion  sat  Miss  Dora,  who 
had  evidently,  from  the  appearance  of  the  musical  hills  and 
valleys  with  great  ravines  between  and  many  five-barred 
gates  and  a  few  dangerous  ditches,  on  the  sheet  of  music  set 
before  her,  been  engaged  in  that  description  of  violent  steeple- 
chasing  over  the  world  of  sound,  widely  known  and  as  widely 
anathematized  by  all  listeners,  as  ''practising."  But  though 
she  still  sat  at  the  piano,  the  eyes  of  the  young  lady  had  in 
them  nothing  of  the  devotion  or  tenderness  of  music — they 
were  restless,  fiery  and  blazing  with  anger,  as  those  of  a  cat 
may  be  seen  to  be  when  that  diminutive  tiger  is  driven  into 
a  corner  and  still  worse  danger  threatens. 

At  a  little  distance  stood  the  dignified  lady  of  the  mansion, 
and  if  the  eyes  of  the  young  lady  had  something  of  threaten- 
ing in  them,  those  of  the  mother  were  lakes  of  fire  without 
soundings.  Her  dark  brows  were  so  bent  in  rage  and  her 
still  handsome  mouth  so  wreathed  in  a  blending  of  terrible 
anger  and  ineffable  scorn,  that  he  must  have  been  a  bold  man 
who  expected  to  hear  her  next  words  without  wincing.  Her 
shapely  arm,  from  which  the  light  mantle  thrown  hastily 
around  her  shoulders  had  fallen  back,  was  raised  at  the  mo- 
ment, and  her  fist  clenched  as  if  object  and  not  will  was 
wanting  for  an  Amazonian  demonstration  ;  and  there  was 
something  about  the  working  of  the  mouth  which  indicated 
that  only  a  little  more  champing  of  the  teeth  would  be 'needed 
to  bring  bloody  foam  from  between  the  lips. 

The  third  person  of  the  group  did  not  seem  at  all  excited, 
meanwhile.     He  was  a  man  of  medium   height,  rather  thin, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  44  7 

with   high,   bald    brow,  and    hair  and    board    slightly  pray, 
dressed  in    dark   summer  cassimeres,  very  gentlemanly  in 

appearance  and  aetion,  and  yet  with  unmistakable  marks,  to 
those  familiar  with  criminal  life  and  the  detective  service, 
that  his  business  bad  long  hern  the  disguising  of  his  own 
identity  and  the  making-  of  surreptitious  discoveries.  This 
was  what  he  looked  to  the  instructed  eye;  and  the  impres- 
sion did  not  belie  him,  for  he  had  been  for  years  one  of  the 
most  capable  and  trusted  agents  of  the  New  York  police  de- 
partment, not  long  before  this  time  transferred  to  the  detective 
service  of  the  State  Department,  and  much  employed  where 
tact  and  gentlemanly  manners  were  both  known  to  be  needed. 
This  man  sat  on  a  chair  four  or  five  feet  from  the  spot  where 
Mrs.  Fullerton  was  standing,  one  hand  playing  with  his 
chatelaine  watch-chain  and  the  other  holding  the  broad 
Panama  hat  of  which  he  had  not  been  relieved.  Mrs.  Ful- 
lerton, of  the  raised  arm  and  the  clenched  fist,  was  speaking : 
"  Send  us  away,  will  you  !  I'd  like  to  see  you,  or  any  of 
the  Baboon's  crew,  do  it!  Dare  to  lay  hands  on  us,  any  of 
you,  and  you  will  know  what  it  is  to  meddle  with  the  best 
blood  of  South  Carolina  !" 

"Oho!"  said  the  official  to  himself,  "  this  woman  would 
hang  herself,  directly,  if  I  should  give  her  rope  enough,  but 
I  should  have  no  fancy  for  carrying  things  so  far."  He  wished 
to  whistle  a  little,  but  he  did  not,  and  only  said,  aloud : 
¥  You  mistake  me  very  much,  madame.  '  Send  away'  is  a 
hard  word,  and  I  did  not  use  it.  I  only  said  that  it  would  be 
prudent  for  you  and  your  daughter  to  leave  the  Northern 
States,  at  once,  and  go  South;  and  that  arrangements  would 
at  once  be  made  for  transferring  you  within  the  lines  of  the 
so-called  Confederates." 

"'So-called!'"  broke  in  the  enraged  woman.  "'So- 
called  V  I  should  like  to  know  why  they  should  not  call 
themselves  Confederates,  and  who  can  hinder  them  !  Jefifer- 
Boa  Davis  is  more  of  a  President  than  your  miserable — " 

"  Mother,"  broke  in  Dora,  who  was  not  quite  so  mud  as  her 
parent.      "  Mother,  remember  what  you  are  saying." 

"The  good  lady  does  not  remeuiber  what  she  la  saying.  T 
am  afraid,"  said  the   official,  rising,  "though  of  course  what 


448  THE      T>  A  Y  S      0  F      S  U  0  I)  I*  Y . 

she  says  is  quite  safe  in  my  keeping.  Meanwhile,  ladies," 
drawing  out  his  watch  and  casting  a  glance  at  the  time  it 
revealed,  "I  am  afraid  that  I  shall  be  obliged  to  shorten  a 

pleasure  of  my  own  and  abridge  an  intrusion  upon  yourselves, 

by  leaving  you  to  attend  to  other  business.  Am  I  to  under- 
stand that  you  decline  to  be  guided  by  the  advice  I  have 
offered  ?" 

"Altogether,  sir!"  said  the  matron,  very  decidedly.  "We 
will  remain  here  while  we  please,  and  go  away  when  we 
please." 

"  Perhaps,"  answered  the  imperturbable  official.  M  Once 
more,  you  had  better  give  me  your  promise,  and  keep  it,  to 
be  absent  from  this  city  within  the  next  forty-eight  hours." 

"And  once  more  I  say  that  I  will  not  submit  any  longer  to 
this  impertinence  !"  almost  shrieked  the  lady.  "  We  hate 
you  and  your  miserable  government,  and  do  not  care  who 
knows  it ;  but  they  lie  who  say  that  we  have  done  any  thing 
to  place  ourselves  in  your  power,  and  we  will  not  stir  one 
step.  And  now,  sir,  if  you  will  leave  this  house  at  once,  very 
well ;  if  not — " 

"People  lie  sometimes,  but  handwriting  does  not,"  said  the 
official.  "  You  put  me  under  the  necessity,  ladies,  of  adopt- 
ing a  tone  that  I  would  willingly  have  avoided.  You  will 
take  my  advice,  both  of  you,  within  the  time  I  have  named, 
or,  women  though  you  are,  you  will  certainly  find  the  inside 
of  a  prison  within  twenty-four  hours  after  that  time  has  ex- 
pired !  Did  you  ever  see  this  paper  before  ?"  and  he  threw 
suddenly  open  and  held  out  to  her  a  folded  paper  that  he  had 
been  drawing  out  from  the  inner  side-pocket  of  his  coat. 

"  My  letter  to  Walker  !"  exclaimed  the  lady,  completely 
surprised  beyond  her  guard  for  the  moment. 

"Exactly!"  said  the  official,  in  the  same  equable  tone. 
"Your  revelation  of  the  projects  of  the  Men  of  the  True 
South,  some  minutes  and  names  of  one  of  the  meetings  held 
here,  and  what  some  people  call  treason,  in  a  very  explicit 
shape.     Will  you  think  better  of  it,  and  take  my  advice  ?" 

"  We  will  obey  your  orders  !n  said  the  lady,  in  a  voice 
broken  with  rage  and  hate.  "  Just  like  you  sneaking  spies 
and   thieves,  to   steal  letters  out  of  the  mail.     We   will  go, 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  449 

and  the  sooner  the  bettor,  to  get  out  of  this  miserable  aboli- 
tion nest. of  peddlers  and  pickpockets*" 

11 1  thought  so.  We  shall  depend  upon  your  keeping  your 
promise.  Good  afternoon,  ladies  !"  and  the  official  bowed 
himself  out  as  he  might  have  done  from  the  pleasantest  of 
interviews. 

"  That  letter—how  ever  did  it  get  into  their  hands  ?"  asked 
Dora,  when  the  door  had  closed. 

^  Stolen,  of  course— just  like  them  !»  answered  the  mother 
And  what  are  we  to  do  now  ?»  as  another  thought 
struck  her.     "  I  shall  lose— " 

u  That  fool  and  his  money  ?  So  you  will  !  Oh,  I  could 
strangle  the  whole  pack  of  them  !" 

"But,  mother,"  said  Dora,  as  still  another  thought  struck 
her—-  why  that  was  the  letter  that  Minthorne  took  down  to 
Washington  himself  1  What  does  it  mean?  Could  he 
have " 

"  Betrayed  us  ?"  the  mother  concluded  the  question  For 
a  moment  her  face  darkened  still  more,  and  she  almost  hissed 
on  the  words  :  «  If  he  did,  and  I  can  make  sure  of  it  he 
will  not  live  a  week  !"  Then  her  face  lightened  again  and  her 
voice  changed,  as  she  said:  "Pshaw!  what  is  the  use  of 
thinking  of  that?  He  is  too  great  a  fool  to  do  that  much 
harm  to  anybody." 

"Still— why  not  ask  him?"  continued  Dora  "Very 
luckily  he  went  away  before  that  ruffian  came  in,  and  I  sup- 
children"  °P  ^  ^  Sch°ol"r00m'  daw<*ling  again  with  those 

"I  will  ask  him  !"  said  the  mother,  and  rising  she  stepped 
out  mto  the  hall  and  ascended  the  stairs,  while  Dora,  vet  a 
little  confused  at  the  complication  of  affairs,  remained  seated 
at  the  p.ano  but  "exercised"  in  mind  only.  Perhaps  two 
minutes  had  elapsed,  when  she  heard  what  sounded  like  a 
scream  from  the  upper  part  of  the  house,  in  her  mother's 
voice,  and  she  followed  her  hastily  up  to  the  third  story 
where  the  spectacle  that  met  her  view  was  something  to  be 
remembered  even  by  a  lady  of  the  "  best  blood  of  South 
Larolma"  with  that  of  Maryland  added. 

When  Mrs.  Fullerton  reached  the  door  of  the  school-room, 
28 


450  T  IT  E      DAY?      OF      SHODDY. 

where  she  expected  to  find  the  millionaire-noodle  "  dawdling 
with  the  children, "  the  door  was  half  open  and  she  heard  the 
millionaire  and  the  school  teacher  in  conversation.  Perhaps 
she  did  nothing  more  than  some  ladies  of  much  more  refine- 
ment and  principle  would  hare  done,  in  pausing  at  the 
threshold  for  just  one  moment.  But  she  certainly  heard 
more  than  most  ladies  would  have  hern  pleased  to  hear,  and 
listened  longer  than  she  had  at  first  intended.  "  Come,  it  is 
time  to  get  done  with  trifling,"  she  heard  the  voice  of  Ned 
Minthorne  say,  with  nothing  in  it  of  the  drawl  and  hesita- 
tion that  had  always  saluted  her  ears  when  he  spoke.  "  I 
have  asked  you  three  times,  and  really  I  think  that  if  you 
are  ever  going  to  answer  me  it  is  nearly  time  to  begin.  How 
many  girls  out  of  an  hundred,  do  you  think,  have  an  offer  of 
marriage  made  them  once,  much  less  three  times?** 

"  Especially  by  a  man  worth  a  million  !*'  answered  the  voice 
of  the  teacher,  blended  with  a  merry,  ringing  laugh. 

"Pshaw  !  let  me  hear  no  more  of  that  V  said  the  voice  of 
the  millionaire.  "  If  my  hand  is  not  worth  yours,  without  my 
money,  it  could  not  be  made  so  by  ten  millions." 

"  Spoken  like  a  man,  and  more  than  that — like  a  really 
nice,  clever  fellow  !"  answered  the  voice  of  the  teacher.  "  I 
have  more  than  half  a  mind  to  put  yon  out  of  your  misery. 
Stop  !  I  have  one  question  to  ask  you,  before  I  answer  yours. 
Have  you  ever  played  false  to  the  Union  cause,  for  one  mo- 
ment, since  the  secession  commenced?" 

"  Xever,  upon  my  honor  1"  solemnly  said  the  voice  of  the 
young  man. 

"  If  not,  what  did  you  do  with  that  letter  directed  to  Mont- 
gomery ?"     Female  voice. 

"  Took  it  to  Washington,  according  to  the  direction,  and 
there  sent  it  in  to  Secretary  Seward,  with  my  compliments, 
at  the  State  Department,"     Male  voice. 

"  Bravo  !"  said  the  voice  of  the  teacher.  "  Yes  ! — with  all 
my  heart !" 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  Mrs.  Fullerton,  who  had  with 
difficulty  restrained  herself  during  all  that  time  at  the  door, 
found  any  longer  restraint  impossible,  under  the  double 
treachery  that  was  so  evidently  being  enacted  under  her  own 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  451 

roof,  and  dashed  open  the  door  with  a  scream  that  might  with 
almost  as  much  propriety  have  been  called  a  yell.  Dora's 
nimble  fret  were  but  an  instant  in  ascending  the  stairs  at  the 
sound,  and  the  scream  had  scarcely  died  away,  and  certainly 
positions  had  not  changed  in  interest,  when  she  stood  beside 
her  mother  in  the  open  door  and  saw  what  was  being 
transacted  in  the  school-room — a  kind  of  "  dawdling  with 
children"  not  set  down  in  the  programme  ! 

Neither  of  the  children — to  wit,  Myra  and  Mildred — was 
to  be  seen  ;  but  near  the  teacher's  desk  stood  Ned  Minthorne, 
with  that  young  lady  clasped  in  his  arms,  and  kissing  her  in 
that  deliriously  ravenous  manner  which  indicates  that  the 
person  banqueting  has  been  kept  on  "short  commons"  for  a 
considerable  time  previously,  and  that  he  is  laying  in  a  store 
against  possible  future  deprivation.  His  arms  were  both 
round  the  young  girl's  pliant  waist ;  and,  shame  of  shames  ! 
— hers  not  only  clung  round  his  neck  as  if  they  had  no  inten- 
tion whatever  of  loosening,  but  she  was  receiving  his  kisses 
and  paying  back  at  least  a  part  of  them,  with  that  freedom 
and  abandon  which  are  so  disgusting — to  those  who  have  no 
share  whatever  in  the  feast ! 

The  fact  is  incredible,  but  the  millionaire  and  the  teacher 
actually  kissed  on,  and — well,  the  plain  word  may  as  well  be 
used — hugged  on,  for  quite  a  moment  after  that  scream,  and 
in  fact  until  Miss  Dora  had  a  fair  view  of  the  interesting 
operation,  and  threw  in  a  supplementary  howl  of  her  own. 
Then  they  seemed  both  at  once  to  have  discovered  the 
presence  of  uninvited  spectators  ;  and  Kate  made  a  motion 
to  release  herself  with  a  little  scream  of  surprise  that  com- 
pared with  the  sounds  uttered  by  either  mother  or  daughter 
as  a  zephyr  does  to  a  tornado  or  a  penny  trumpet  to  a  loco- 
motive whistle  ;  while  Ned  Minthorne  still  kept  bis  left  arm 
around  her  and  merely  stared  at  the  intruders  as  if  they  had 
been  two  new  specimens  in  his  pet  study  of  natural  history. 

All  this  was  a  little  too  much  for  the  "  Southern  matron," 
who  made  a  dart  forward  as  if  she  would  tear  the  lovers  not 
only  apart  but  into  several  pieces, — followed  by  Miss  Dora, 
who  had  already  fallen  into  a  speechless  passion  of  tears  and 
sobs.     And  yet,  strangely  enough,  even  in  the  midst  of  her 


452  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

pa?sion,  Mrs.  Fullerton  seemed  to  retain  some  regard  for 
and  some  hope  of  the  million  or  more,  for  she  began  to  pour 
out  all  the  vials  of  wrath  upon  the  female  head  and  that 
which  wore  no  gilded  crown  of  wealth. 

"  Yon  shameless  hussy  1  You  dirty  trollope  !  These  are 
the  goings  on  in  my  house,  are  they  ?" 

"Mrs.  Fullerton,"  said  the  millionaire,  very  calmly,  and 
still  without  any  hesitation  in  his  speech,  "be  kind  enough 
to  recollect  that  if  there  is  any  fault  here  it  is  mine,  and  to 
know,  if  you  do  not  know  it  already,  that  this  young  lady  is 
to  be  my  wife  !" 

Audacious  as  were  these  words  and  all  the  surrounding 
circumstances,  it  is  doubtful  if  they  would  have  struck  either 
mother  or  daughter  with  more  surprise  thau  the  manly  and 
unembarrassed  manner  of  their  utterance,  so  unlike  what  they 
had  been  used  to  hearing  from  the  millionaire  noodle, — had 
either  been  cool  enough  to  recognize  the  difference.  But  just 
now  rage  was  uppermost  in  the  one  and  spiteful  tears  pre- 
vailed over  the  other ;  and  the  mother  went  on  with  her  ob- 
jurgation : 

"You  low-lived?  low-born,  miserable  Northern  scum,  out 
of  my  house  you  go  this  instant,  and  you  deserve  a  whip  on 
your  back  as  you  go  !" 

Something  in  these  words  produced  an  effect  she  had  not 
contemplated,  and  an  effect  that  might  have  been  escaped  (at 
least  for  the  time)  but  for  their  utterance.  Kate  Haviland 
had  not  said  one  word,  so  far;  but  now  she  flung  herself  free 
from  the  arm  of  her  lover,  thrust  her  hand  suddenly  into  the 
bosom  of  her  dress,  took  out  a  yellow  folded  paper  and  shook 
it  from  its  folds,  as  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  was  far  from  being 
good-humored : 

"  Hold  on,  madam,  before  you  call  the  grand-daughter  of 
a  soldier  of  the  Revolution  and  an  officer  of  the  last  war,  'low- 
born' and  'low-lived,'  and  talk  about  putting  a  'whip  on  h^r 
back,'  until  you  get  clear  of  a  little  of  your  own  negro  blood  J" 

"  What  I*1  cried  the  millionaire,  and  he  was  too  nearly  struck 
dumb  to  say  more.  Dora  Fullerton  dropped  into  a  chair  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  the  light  storm  of  tears 
and  sobs  that  had  before  been  passing  over  her  deepened  into 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  453 

end,  a  tempest  of  agitation  as  seemed  to  threaten  her  life 
As  for  Mrs  Fullerton_it  has  been  said  that  when  standing 
...  the  door  her  scream  was  almost  a  .veil.  The  sonnd  that 
she  uttered  at  tins  moment  blended  scream,  yell  and  roar  in 
one  ungovernable  and  indescribable  sound  of  ra-e  as  she 
sprung  forward  at  the  young  girl  as  if  she  would  tear  her  to 
p.eces  with  her  naked  hands,  raving  out,  with  other  words 
that  cannot  be  penned  here  : 

heart!"'''  Harl  W1'CtCb!  "M  will  tear  out  your  black,  lying 
But  Ned  Minthorne's  hand,  small  and  white  but  strong 
enough  for  that  purpose,  first  thrust  Kate  Haviland  behind 
h.mandhen  shoved  away  the  enraged  woman ;  and  storm 
as  the  latter  would,  the  words  of  the  young  girl,  now  tho. 
roughly  out  of  temper,  could  be  heard  distinctly  • 

"Yes  madam-negro  blood  I  I  would  have  spared  you 
h.s  had  you  kept  your  temper  and  your  tongue.  Now  take 
it  all,  for  you  have  deserved  it.  I  hold  in  m y  hand  the  man- 
umission  papers  given  by  your  father,  Judge  Clifton  Brix- 
tonc,  of  Columbia  South  Carolina,  to  you,  his  slave  daughter 
Olympia,  the  child  of  Myra,  his  quadroon  slave.  Deny  it  if 
you  dare,  you  miserable  old  woman  who  talk  to  a  free-born 
.Northern  woman  about  '  low  birth'  and  '  whips'  I" 

There  are  points  beyond  which  the  human  system,  however 
strong  and  well-disciplined,  cannot  resist  the  pressure  of  the 
spirit  that  rages  within.  Mrs.  Fullerton  made  one  more 
spring  forward,  as  she  realized  that  the  dark  secret  of  her  life 
was  at  last  discovered,  her  social  position  swept  away,  and 
her  daughter's  chances  of  wealth  destroyed  ;  then  she  threw 
up  her  hands  to  her  throat,  while  the  word  "  Liar  I"  enroled 
there,  tottered  and  fell  heavily  forward  in  one  of  those  dense 
swoons  that  are  mercies  to  the  mind  however  painful  to  the 

The  curtain  may  well  be  dropped  here,  as  the  daughter 
B  ill  sobs  helplessly  in  her  chair  and  the  others  gather  around 
tne  miserable  woman  and  try  to  recover  her.  And  yet  as 
it  goes  down,  perhaps  the  reader  of  this  narration  may' be 
able  to  discover  what  had  been  the  skeleton  ever  sitting  at 
the  feast  of  this  family.     Negro  blood-a  thing  well  enough 


454  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

ill  its  mixture  with  white,  according  to  the  new  lights, — but 
not  yet  recognized  as  a  necessary  component  by  "our  best 
society."  That  reader  may  remain  in  doubt,  as  docs  the 
writer,  whether  Randolph  Fullerton,  purser  in  the  United 
States  Navy,  ever  knew  that  he  had  married  a  mestizo  wife, 
the  daughter  of  a  quadroon  slave,  and  whether  his  arriving 
at  such  a  knowledge  was  or  was  not  one  means  of  plunging 
him  into  the  drunkenness  which  ended  in  his  falling  over- 
board and  drowning  at  Port  Mahon  ;  but  that  reader  will 
not  remain  in  doubt,  this  clue  furnished,  how  Charles  Holt, 
merchant,  must  have  revolted,  after  his  marriage  with  Olym- 
pia  Fullerton  the  younger,  at  finding  himself  trapped  in  that 
manner  with  the  "  best  blood  of  South  Carolina" — how 
separation  between  husband  and  .wife  was  instantaneous 
and  eternal,  from  the  moment  of  the  discovery — how  that 
domestic  ruin  fostered  the  seeds  of  evil  in  his  nature,  and 
made  him  a  worse  and  wickeder  man  than  he  might  ever 
have  grown  to  be  under  other  circumstances — how  he  be- 
came an  unbridled  voluptuary  and  his  wife  a  reckless  wine- 
bibber,  the  husband  keeping  the  family's  secret  through  all 
those  years,  in  order  to  keep  that  of  his  own  disgrace,  hold- 
ing over  them  all  that  iron  hand  which  without  the  key 
seemed  so  inexplicable,  and  actually  pensioning  them  and 
allowing  them  to  be  supposed  pure-blooded  and  wealthy, 
that  some  other  fool  might  be  trapped  with  Dora  as  he  had 
been  with  Olympia  ! 

The  government  official  of  the  suave  demeanor  was  right 
when  he  said  that  both  the  ladies  would  leave  the  city  of  New 
York  within  forty-eight  hours.  On  Friday  morning  Mrs. 
Fullerton,  Dora  and  the  two  children  went  Southward,  with 
how  much  of  means  of  subsistence  suddenly  snatched  from 
the  abundance  which  had  before  surrounded  them,  it  is  im- 
possible to  relate  with  certainty.  But  something  else  oc- 
curred, upon  which  neither  the  official  nor  yet  the  family  had 
calculated.  Charles  Holt  was  absent  from  the  city,  at  Wash- 
ington. When  informed  of  the  betrayal  of  the  secret  and 
the  enforced  flight  of  her  family,  Olympia  Holt  arose,  girded 
herself,  shook  off  the  dust  from  her  feet  against  the  house 
where  she  had  so  heavily  sinned  and  suffered,  "  spoiled  the 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY'.  455 

Egyptians"  by  loading  herself  with  all  the  jewelry  she  pos- 
sessed and  all  the  money  and  small  valuables  within  her 
reach,  and  "wandered  on  with  her  people." 

Kate  llaviland  was  before  that  time  in  the  arms  (ever 
those  arms,  enfolding  all  the  world  1)  of  dear,  good  old  Aunt 
Bessy,  at  Duffsboro,  and  in  some  other  company  that  we 
wot  not ;  and  the  drama  of  the  handsome  house  on  West 
Twenty-third  Street  was  closed. 


No  slow-moving  cars,  now — it  was  in  a  carriage  driven  at 
flying  speed  (almost  like  that  he  had  stopped  so  suddenly  on 
the  Centreville  road,  three  days  before)  that  Burtnett  Havi- 
land  dashed  up  Cortlandt  Street  and  Broadway  and  the 
Third  Avenue,  on  Wednesday,  the  24th  of  July,  immediately 
after  his  arrival  from  Washington.  His  brain  was  in  a 
whirl.  Every  hour  made  him  more  and  more  doubtful 
whether  he  must  not  have  been  the  victim  of  some  terrible  vil- 
lany — whether  the  wife  he  had  supposed  lost  forever  might 

not  be  pure  and  spotless  after  all.     And  yet — her  flight  ? 

she  must  have  fled — Kate  could  not  have  been  deceived — 
what  could  that  flight  mean,  but  guilt  ?  Still,  those  words 
of  the  merchant — so  unimpeachable  a  testimony  to  her  truth 
■ — why  should  they  have  been  spoken  in  falsehood  ?  And 
where  was  she  ?  Not  at  home,  of  course  ;  yet  he  must  go 
there,  and  go  at  once,  or  go  mad.  Even  to  stand  where  Mary 
and  himself  had  once  been  so  happy,  would  be  something. 

Such  was  his  frame  of  mind  as  he  dashed  up  to  the  front 
of  the  house  on  East  Forty-eighth  Street,  flung  open  the 
door  of  the  earriage,  and  leaped  out.  lie  ran  up  the  steps 
and  laid  his  hand  on  the  knob  of  the  door.  It  yielded,  and 
he  went  in,  the  driver  waiting  without  with  the  carriage.  No- 
body seemed  to  hear  him — the  hall  floor  and  the  stairs  were 
bare — so  unlike  the  cozy  nest  of  love  and  home  that  the  little 
house  had  been  !  He  went  up  stairs,  his  brain  throbbing 
wildly  and  his  heart  beating  with  a  worse  excitement  than  he 
had  known  when  making  the  first  charge  at  Sudley  or  fight- 
ing over  the  guns  of  Ay  res'  battery.  Hurriedly  into  both 
rooms  and  the  little  bed-room  ;  but  no  one  to  be  seen.  Every 
thiug  nearly  as  he  had  known  it  of  old — nothing  removed, 


456  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY 

only  a  little  disordered.  Ah,  there  had  been  fire  in  the  range 
in  the  little  back-room,  and  some  fragments  of  bread  and 
meat  lay  on  a  plate  on  the  side-board.  Joy  ! — there  was 
somebody  in  the  house,  after  all !     But  where  ? 

He  passed  up  the  second  stair  to  the  bed-rooms,  and  there 
his  footstep  seemed  to  be  heard.  A  figure  darted  out  of  one 
of  the  rooms.  Was  it  his  wife  ? — no,  it  was  the  figure  of 
Sarah  Sanderson  ;  but  he  scarcely  knew  the  face,  it  was  so 
changed  and  woe-begone — so  pinched  and  starved-looking. 
Some  of  us  have  seen  a  cat,  discovered  when  long  shut  up  in 
a  granary  or  an  upper  room,  and  nearly  starved  as  well  as 
made  wild  with  loneliness.  The  expression  of  the  poor  girl's 
face  was  something  of  that  desolate  and  almost  fearful  char- 
acter. 

"  Why,  Sarah  !"  was  all  that  the  returned  Zouave  could 
ejaculate. 

For  an  instant  the  girl  did  not  recognize  him,  in  his  changed 
uniform  and  with  his  bronzed  face  and  close-cut  beard  and 
hair.  But  his  voice  reassured  her,  and  the  moment  she  knew 
that  it  was  indeed  Burtnett  Haviland  whom  she  saw.  she 
dropped  on  her  knees  before  him,  caught  her  arms  around  his 
leg,  burst  into  tears  and  sobs  that  seemed  to  come  from  a 
heart  nigh  bursting,  and  broke  out  with  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Haviland  !  what  have  I  done  !  kill  me — kill  me, 
Mr.  Haviland  !" 

""  My  wife,  Mary — quick,  tell  me  where  my  wife  is  !"  was 
the  answer  of  the  equally  agonized  husband. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  !  I  don't  know  ! — she  went  away,  some- 
where, and  I  drove  her  away,  I  suppose  !  Do  kill  me,  Mr. 
Haviland — I  have  been  so  wicked  !" 

"  You  !"  said  the  husband.   "  What  have  you  done,  Sarah  ?" 

"  Oh,  every  thing  that  was  bad  !"  sobbed  the  poor  girl, 
whose  week  of  loneliness  in  the  house,  keeping  vigil  on  Kate's 
bounty  and  under  her  orders,  waiting  for  some  one  to  come 
back  and  attend  to  the  goods  and  furniture  it  contained, 
seemed  to  have  been  blessed  by  the  celestial  influences  with 
an  insight  into  her  own  heart  which  the  poor  warped  and 
half-educated  nature  had  never  before  found  strength  to  take. 
She  arose  from  her  knees — dragged  Haviland  into  her  room 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  457 

— showed  him  the  letters  that  his  wife  had  written  and  that 
she  had  herself  kept  back  from  the  mail,  hidden  away  in  a 
locked  drawer, — and  amid  tears  and  sobs  and  such  implora- 
tions  for  pity  and  forgiveness  as  might  have  moved  a  eolder 
heart  than  she  was  addressing,  told  him  all  she  knew  of  the 
wrongs  under  which  himself  and  his  wife  had  been  suffering  ever 
sinee  their  separation.  It  was  a  terrible  confession,  and  some 
men,  in  the  midst  of  it,  might  have  been  moved  to  a  <\i^-i\, 
even  upon  a  woman,  that  Would  have  furnished  subject  of 
regret  for  a  whole  life.  But  Burtnett  Haviland  had  been 
Seasoned  in  sorrow  and  wrong,  within  a  few  weeks.  He 
listened  with  set  teeth,  and  only  once,  when  the  sublime  vil- 
lany  of  the  stopped  letters  was  recounted,  broke  out  with 
words  that  the  girl  little  understood  : 

"  The  scoundrel  !  I  ought  to  have  killed  him  on  the  spot ! 
Richmond  is  no  puuishment  for  him/"  He  did  not  know, 
then,  let  it  be  remembered,  half  that  Richmond  could  do  in 
the  way  of  supplying  expiation  for  mortal  sin  ! 

"And  how  could  you  do  this  ?"  at  length  he  asked,  when 
the  whole  terrible  crime  had  been  related.  "  What  had  Mrs. 
Haviland  or  myself  done  to  you,  that  you  should  do  that 
villanous  bidding  ?     Oh,  Sarah  !  Sarah  ! — how  could  you  ?" 

That  thin,  pinched,  sorrowful  face  was  red  as  the  peony 
in  a  moment.  All  the  blood  in  her  little  body  seemed 
have  rushed  into  it,  as  she  dropped  once  more  on  her  knees, 
clasped  her  hands  so  piteously  and  so  repentantly,  and  uttered 
that  last  confession  that  only  the  breaking  up  of  the  very 
depths  of  her  being  could  have  wrung  from  her. 

"You  must  kill  me,  Mr.  Haviland,  because  I  have  been  so 
wicked  !  I  hated  your  wife  because  I  loved  you  and  had 
loved  you  ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl,  away  oil'  yonder  in 
the  country.  I  drove  her  away,  but  I  would  die  to  bring  her 
back  again  and  make  you  both  happy,  now  !  Oh,  what  will 
become  of  me?" 

We  forgive  nothing  so  quickly  or  so  easily  as  even  crime 
done  for  love  of  ourselves.  Haviland  was  mortal,  and  he 
forgave  the  poor  girl  from  that  moment,  however  impossible 
he  might  have  felt  it  to  be  that  the  wrongs  committed  could 
ever  be  repaired.      And  then  her  story  added  to  his  chances 


458  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

of  happiness.  His  wife  had  not  forgotten  or  neglected  him 
when  he  thought  her  guilty  of  that  wrong:  her  own  yet  un- 
opened letters  bore  that  witness.     And  jet  her  Btory  added 

to  his  agony,  for  she  had  fled  away,  and  Kate  knew  nothing 
of  her,  and  all  was  yet  darkness  and  desolation,  with  only 
one  glimmering  spark  to  lead  to  the  possibility  of  happinesa 

He  questioned  the  girl  further.  She  had  asked!  the  neigh- 
bors— not  one  of  them  had  seen  or  heard  any  thing  of  the 
wife  since  her  flight.  Moments  were  years,  for  the  great  end 
of  his  life  seemed  no  nearer  than  when  he  had  reached  the 
house.  So  far,  all  that  remained  to  him  of  wife  or  child, 
hung  over  the  mantel  in  their  pictures.  He  had  time  to 
breathe  a  word  of  forgiveness  to  the  heart-stricken  girl,  to 
give  her  some  money,  with  orders  still  to  remain  in  the  house 
until  she  heard  from  him  again,  to  kiss  the  dear  picture.-  oyer 
the  mantel,  and  to  cast  one  more  glance  into  the  little  bed- 
room that  had  been  his  nest  Of  love  before  the  birds  flew 
away  ;  and  then  he  sprang  again  into  the  carriage  and  dashed 
down-town.     ■ 

To  the  store,  next.  It  was  but  a  remote  chance,  but  some 
one  there  might  have  a  clue  to  her  whereabouts.  If  her 
flight  had  really  been  innocent,  she  might  have  thought  of 
the  possibility  of  his  return,  and  sent  her  direction  there.  A 
wild  hope,  indeed  !  He  found  the  store  of  Charles  Holt  & 
Andrews  m  confusion,  owing  to  a  report  which  had  come  on 
from  Washington  that  the  senior  partner  had  gone  out  to  see 
the  battle  of  Bull  Ruu  on  Sunday,  and  that  he  must  either 
have  been  killed  or  taken  by  the  rebels  !  And  what  a  de- 
moniac satisfaction  there  was  for  the  agonized  husband,  for 
the  moment,  looking  at  the  puzzled  and  anxious  fac 
Wales,  and  West,  and  Xellis,  and  thinking  how  much  he 
could  tell  them  of  that  matter,  if  he  only  would  !  But  he  was 
not  very  likely  to  betray  his  own  secret,  even  in  a  boast ; 
and  it  is  doubtful  whether  either  of  the  clerks  has  ever 
known,  to  this  day,  and  after  all  the  investigations  of  the 
lawyers  in  winding  up  the  concern  and  handing  over  the 
profits  of  shoddy  contracts  to  one  partner  and  to  distant  heirs- 
at-law  of  the  other,  precisely  how  Charles  Holt  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  rebels  at  Cub  Ruu. 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  459 

But  nothing  of  Mary.     No  one  of  the  clerks  mentioned 
her  to  him,  and  she  had  rcotfBent  ber directibn.     Anotherhope 

gone  !  He  was  turning  away  heart-sick,  and  just  leasing  the 
store  to  take  that  dernier  resort  of  making-  an  application  for 
aid  at  the  police  headquarters,  when  just  as  he  reached  the 
door,  little  Tim,  the  cross-eyed  and  the  scrubbing-brush- 
headed,  wa|  coining  in  with  a  bundle  of  letters  from  the  post- 
otlice.  He  remembered  the  boy's  queer  dispatch  in  an  instant, 
and  how  nearly  it  had  proved  to  beHrue.  It  appeared  tJ 
make  him  a  link  between  husband  and  wife  ;  and  when  the 
boy  laid  down  his  letters  and  came  back  to  the  door,  there 
seemed  to  be  a  vague  hope  in  the  mind  of  the  husband  that 
he  who  had  known  what  others  failed  to  know,  before,  might 
know  something  now. 

H  Mister  Hevlin,  don't  think  of  that  ere  box  Ithrowed  over 
on  your  leg,  or  about  that  ere  letter  I  writ  you  I"  he  said, 
very  imploringly,  as  his  old  friend  took  him  by  the  stubby 
hand.  "  I  didn't  mean  nothin'  bad,  Mister  Hevlin — I  'clare 
to  man  I  didn't !  Dern  old  Holt — I  didn't  like  him,  and  I 
don't  care  ef  the  seseshers  hev  ketched  him — that's  all!  I 
don't  believe  he  meant  right  by  Missers  Hevlin,  no  how,  but 
I  s'pose  he  went  away  to  Europe  or  England  or  some  of  them 
ere  parts,  so  that  he  hadn't  no  time  to  do  nothin',  'r  else  I 
dunuo  what  might  ha'  come  of  her." 

"Ha,"  said  Haviland  to  himself,  "they  have  evidently 
heard  nothing  whatever  of  the  scoundrel's  movements,  down 
here  at  his  own  place,  or  the  boy  would  have  known  of  them  !" 
An  additional  pang  of  agitated  joy  went  through  his  heart  as 
he  thought  of  the  corroboration  thus  given  to  all  the  circum- 
stances weighing  in  his  wife's  favor  ;  but  another  deadly  fear 
followed,  that  he  was  to  catch  no  clue  to  her  whereabouts 
from  Tim,  from  the  fact  that  the  boy  had  made  no  allusion  to 
any  such  knowledge,  even  when  speaking  of  her.  These 
thoughts  kept  him  silent  for  an  instant  after  the  errand-boy 
had  ceased  speaking ;  and  all  that  time  the  squint  eyes  were 
devouring  his  face  with  that  keenest  of  all  anxieties  'which 
looks  for  forgiveness  of  an  injury,  from  one  almost  worshipped. 
At  last  the  suspense  could  be  endured  no  longer,  and  the  boyj 
who  really  believed  that  his  old  friend  was  growing  implacable 


460  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

under  the  reminder  of  his  past  conduct,  repeated  the  implora- 
tion  : 

"  1  didn't  mean  no  harm,  Mr.  Hevlin — I  x-lare  to  man  I 
didn't ;   and  you  mustn't  think  hard  o'  me  !" 

"You  didn't  mean  any  harm,  and  you  didn't  do  any  harm, 
Tim,"  said  the  husband.  "But,  Tim,  did  you  ever  see  any 
thing  of  Mrs.  liaviland  afterwards  ?  I  have  just  conn.-  home, 
you  know,  and  don't  know  where  to  find  her.  She  has 
ilut  of  town,  I  suppose,  and  didn't  expect  me  back,  and  so  she 
has  shut  up  the  house  and  left  me  no  direction."  How  the 
heart  of  the  husband  beat  with  anxiety  as  he  framed  this  ex- 
cuse to  the  boy  for  what  was  yet  his  possible  shame  ! 

"  Oh  yes,  I've  seen  her,"  said  the  boy.  "  Seen  her- — dern 
it,  I  forgit  the  day — one  day  last  week.      I  was  down  to  the 

railroad  boat  at  the  foot  of Street,  carry  in' a  bundle, 

and  I  seed  her  go  aboard  with  that  denied  party  little  girl 
o' yourn  with  her.  She  looked  kind  o'  peaked,  but  I  guess 
she'll  get  better  now  you've  come — won't  she  ?" 

Poor  Tim  had  been  at  the  Bowery  circuses  on  pit-tickets, 
two  or  three  times  in  his  uneventful  life  ;  but  he  had  never 
seen  clown  or  gymnast  make  such  a  bolt  as  liaviland  exhib- 
ited, off  the  steps  of  the  store  and  down  the  street  towards 
the  wharves  that  lay  full  in  sight  with  their  mingled  masts 
and  smoke-stacks  ;  and  as  the  seeker  disappeared  two  blocks 
away,  he  muttered  to  himself: 

'•  Wonder  what  the  dernation  is  the  matter  of  him  !  Had 
all  his  hair  cut  off  and  must  ha'  got  sun-struck  down  alnong 
them  are  soceshers,  I  guess  !" 

Burtnett  Haviland,  meanwhile,  was  fleeing  as  if  for  his 
life,  towards  the  pier  from  which  the  railroad  boat  left, 
which  had  been  designated  by  the  boy.  And  all  the  time  he 
was  mentally  knocking  his  head  with  hjs  fist  and  saying : 
"  Fool !  fool !  why  did  I  not  think  of  that  ?  She  has  gone 
home — home  !" 

Some,  three  hours  by  boat  and  road,  but  they  seemed  three 
centuries  to  Haviland,  before  he  dropped  from  the  cars  at  the 
little  station  nearest  Duffsboro  and  walked  across  the  mile  of 
fields  separating  the  village  and  the  railroad.  He  had  asked 
no  questions  on  the  boat,  of  any  who  might  have  known  the 


T  II  E      P  A  Y  9      0  F      S  H  0  I)  D  Y.  461 

whereabouts  of  his  wife  :  ho  was  determined  to  moot  complete 
happiness  or  utter  misery  at  once — not  drink  cither  in  by 
slew  and  miserable  degrees.  Changed  as  be  w;as,  and  not 
so  well  known  as  of  old  in  the  section  of  country  which 
supplied  many  of  the  passengers  for  the  way-station,  be  es- 
caped recognition,  or  he  might  have  become  a  subject  of 
general  astonishment  and  conversation,  so  widely  had  the 
news  of  his  death  spread  within  the  previous  twenty-four 
hours,  among  those  who  had  been  acquainted  with  him  in 
other  years. 

It  was  past  sunset  and  falling  dusk  when  he  stepped  from 
the  path  behind  the  house,  on  the  end  of  the  little  porch 
where  Aunt  Bessy  and  Kate  had  stood  that  Sunday  morning 
and  seen  the  flag  raised  on  the  spire  of  the  village-church. 
Aunt  Bessy  was  coming  out  of  the  door.  He  recognized 
her  at  once  :  he  was  so  much  changed  that  she  did  not  at  first 
know  the  rough  and  cropped  soldier  who  accosted  her,  and  it 
wras  only  when  he  managed  to  conquer  the  rising  in  his 
throat  enough  to  say  :  "  How  dy'e  do,  Aunt  Bessy  ?"  that 
she  knew  the  voice  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
greeted  him  with  a  cry  of  joy  wild  enough  to  alarm  the 
whole  household  : 

"Burtnett,  oh  Burtnett !  my  dear  boy,  how  glad  I  am  to 
see  you  !  You  are  not  killed  ! — Heaven  be  blessed  for  all  its 
goodness !" 

It  was  a  terrible  task  for  the  anxious  husband  to  calm 
down  his  voice  enough  to  ask  :  "Is  Mary  here  ?"  and  by  the 
time  he  had  done  so,  the  good  old  lady,  her  own  ebullition  of 
joy  over,  thought  of  some  of  the  naughty  stories  she  had 
heard  of  her  nephew  while  away  at  the  war,  and  concluded 
to  tease  him  a  little  : 

"  Mary  ?     Why  how  should  she  be  here  ?     Kate  is  here  I" 

And  at  that  moment  the  ci-devant  schoolmistress  came  out 
of  the  door.  Burtnett  Haviland  had  her  in  his  arms  before 
he  realized  that  it  was  not  indeed  his  wife  ;  and  she  heard 
him  mutter : 

11  Only  Kate  !" 

11  '  Only  Kate,'  you  impudent  wretch  !"  said  the  merry  girl, 
who  even  then  could  not  altogether  restrain  her  propensity 


462  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

for  mischief* though  the  warmth  of  her  embrace  showed  the 
real  joy  of  her  hear"  '1  pay  yoa  for  that  insult, 

some  time  or  other  !  You  may  go  away  and  be  killed  iu 
earnest,  next  time  1" 

But  she  spoke  to  the  summer  evening  breeze  that  was  com- 
ing in  over  the  stubble-fields,  or  she  might  as  well  have  dune 
so  ;  for  another  figure  came  out  of  the  door  bat  a  moment  be- 
hind her,  there  were  two  names  called  in  one  scream  of  joy, 
and  holding  that  figure  in  his  arms  the  returned  suldier,  for- 
getting all  the  past  for  one  moment  in  the  delight  of  that  long 
kiss  of  reunion,  and  catching  those  words  of  heart-felt  joy  that 
almost  took  away  the  breath  of  the  speaker  as  she  uttered 
them,  and  that  told  how  false  must  have  been  every  word 
that  militated  against  the  abiding  truth  and  fondness  of  this 
dearest  of  wives:  "Burtey!  Burtey  I  oh  my  husband ;  you 
have  come  back  to  me  at  last !  Burtey  !  Burtey  !  my  husband  ! 
How  I  have  gone  mad  because  I  believed  that  you  were  dead 
. — that  I  should  never  see  you  again — that  our  poor  little  Pet 
had  no  father  I" — did  not  say  :  "  Only  Mary  !''  but :  "  My 
dear,  darling  wife  ! — worth  all  the  battles  and  all  the  causes 
in  the  world  !" 

And  then  another  figure,  much  smaller,  toddled  out  into  the 
gathering  dusk  on  the  porch,  and  another  embrace,'  almost  as 
dear,  was  turned  into  a  temptation  to  laughter  by  little  Pet's 
remark,  feeling  around  his  face,  that  "Papa  had  tut  off  mos' 
all  his  viskers  !" 

Explanations  are  proverbially  dull,  and  there  are  none  to 
make  in  this  instance.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  husband  and 
wife  indulged  in  several  octavo  volumes  of  them  between  that 
time  and  the  hour  next  morning  when  the  birds  w^ke  them, 
singing  in  the  peach  and  cherry-trees  under  their  windows. 
But  to  the  reader  all  these  have  been  forestalled  ;  and  even 
if  they  had  not  been,  only  the  merest  folly  could  tempt  the 
recital.  Abu  Taleb,  the  great  Turkish  preacher,  refused  to 
lecture  in  the  mosque  one  morning,  because  a  part  of  his  ex- 
pectant auditory  already  knew  what  he  was  going  to  say  and 
had  no  need  of  being  instructed,  and  the  balance  did  not  know 
what  he  was  going  to  say  and  could  not  be  made  to  under- 
stand within  such  a  limited  period ;   and  his  droll  idea  holds 


T  J I  E      DAYS      OF      S  IT  O  D  D  Y.  4B3 

good  in  the  present  instance.  Of  those  who  read,  a  few  have 
passed  through  the  agonies  of  Mich  separations  between  those 
who  love,  believed  to  be  eternal,  and  the  unutterable  joys  of 

such  reunions.  They  know,  without  an  attempt  at  leading 
their  minds  into  that  channel,  what  are  the  words,  what  the 
broken  bods,  what  the  long  embraces,  what  the  wakings  in 
the  night  and  reaching*  out  of  the  hands  to  feel  whether  the 
returned  happiness  has  not  existed  only  in  a  dream, — that 
come  with  the  Weaving  together  once  more  of  those  chords 
which  make  the  divinity  of  human  life  ;  and  to  them  words 
would  be  wasted.  The  great  balance  of  readers,  meanwhile, 
have  never  known  either  the  pangs  or  the  transports  of  such 
an  epitomizing  of  all  that  is  most  enjoyed  and  all  that  is  most 
dreaded  in  the  experience  of  love  ;  and  to  them,  lacking  the 
knowledge  of  the  "shibboleth,"  all  would  appear  gro>-  ex- 
aggeration and  unreality.  The  dramatist  is  right  when  he 
drops  the  curtain  suddenly,  at  least  for  the  moment,  on  the 
embrace  of  rejoined  affection  or  the  agonized  clasp  of  the 
hands  over  the  body  of  a  dead  lover  or  a  dead  love.  Either 
scene  is  sacred  to  the  blessed  or  the  bereaved,  and  either  un- 
intelligible to  all  who  stand  without  the  gate.  So  falls  the 
curtain  on  the  reunion  of  Burtnett  Haviland  and  his  wife  — 
the  one  apparently  rescued  from  the  grave,  the  other  from 
that  worse  burial  which  comes  with  falsehood  and  loss  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIY 

Tn"R  Toracco-Warehouse  at  "Richmond — Some  last  pas- 
sages in  the  Bistort  of  Mr,  Charles  Holt,  merchant — 
The  Fullertons  in  Secessta — Last  glimpses  of  the 
Zouave  and  his  Wife — How  Kate  Haviland  and  Aunt 
Bessy  had  a  Visitor,  and  the  Sequel — A  Farewell,  and 
yet  no  Farewell,  to  the  "  Days  of  Shoddy." 

For  a  month  Charles  Holt  had  shared  the  captivity  of  the 
Union  troops  taken  at  Bull   Bun  and  elsewhere — shared  all 


464  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

that  Buffering,  abase  and  near  approach  to  starvation,  whieh 
will  in  future  days  make  the  old  Ligon  Tobacco  Warehouse 
oo  Main  Street,  Richmond,  the  peer  in  history  of  the  Ji  reey 
Prison-Ship,  the  Old  Sugar-House,  and  almost  of  the  Black- 
Hole  of  Calcutta.  If  the  Confederates  had  food  at  command, 
starved  the  Union  prisoners  with  full  purpose  :  if  they 
lacked  themselves,  they  had  some  excuse.  J  leaven  and  the 
future  will  arrange  all  that  little  matter  of  responsibility  and 
punishment.  We  have  nothing  to  do,  hero,  with  the  details 
of  "  prison-life  at  Richmond,"  which  so  many  have  tasted,  by 
the  way,  within  the  past  three  years,  that  Richmond  ; 
coming  better  known  to  the  people  of  the  North  than  even  to 
most  of  the  native  Virginians  ! 

Charles  Holt  had  ample  leisure,  eating  his  bad  and  scanty 
beef,  hard  bread,  and  drinking  his  bean  coffee,  to  remember 
his  luxurious  dinners  at  the  lonely  table  on  Fifth  Avenue. 
He  also  had  leisure,  on  his  miserable  pallet,  at  night,  to  think 
of  hair-mattresses,  beds  of  down,  and  other  luxuries  equally 
attainable.  And  he  seemed  likely  to  have  even  more  leisure 
for  such  profitable  contemplations.  The  Federal  government 
had  either  no  power  or  no  time,  to  look  after  the  welfare 
of  its  captured  soldiers  (another  branch  of  "shoddy"  ma- 
nagement, not  yet  finished) — how  then  could  it  be  expected 
to  look  after  civilians  who  had  had  no  business  whatever  on 
the  battle-field,  and  of  whose  capture  the  general  verdict  was 
that  gruff  but  expressive  Western  one — "  Sarved  'em  right !" 

One  day,  late  in  August,  the  merchant  had  two  lady  visit- 
ors. Somewhat  to  his  surprise,  when  he  was  allowed  by  the 
sentry  to  go  to  the  door  and  speak  to  them  within  ear-shot, 
they  proved  to  be  his  wife  and  mother-in-law,  who  had  been 
duly  passed  within  the  rebel  lines,  transported  to  Richmond, 
and  a  day  or  two  before  informed  that  Charles  Holt  was  a 
prisoner  in  the  Tobacco  Warehouse.  It  would  be  falsehood 
to  say  that  the  greeting  was  cordial  on  either  side — it  was  the 
reverse.  The  ladies  wanted  money — the  most  universal  of 
all  wants,  and  that  which  may  always  be  "bet  upon"  as  the 
particular  errand  of  male  or  female,  when  no  other  is  known. 
Mrs.  Fullerton,  who  seemed  in  high  feather  in  Secessia,  prin- 
cipally acted  as  spokeswoman  (a  habit  of  hers)  and  suggested 


i  a  e     i)  a  y  a    o  f    s  ir  o  d  d  y.  465 

that  the  merchant  owed  something  to  his  wife — that  they  bad 
influence  with  the  Cou federate  authorities  and  might  be  dis- 
posed to  sell  him  a  little  indulgence.  The  merchant,  whoso 
breakfast  of  mouldy  bread  and  muddy  coffee  had  not  been 
satisfactory,  was  in  an  ill  humor  and  did  not  wish  to  purchase. 
On  the  contrary,  very  much  in  defiance  of  the  feelings  of  the 
sentry  (as  well  as  his  bayonet — bayonets  "think  l'1)  he  ad- 
dressed the  two  ladies,  at  the  end  of  Mrs.  Fullerton's  per- 
oration, in  the  following  words  : 

"  You  are  now  among  the  niggers,  where  you  belong — you 
know  why !  You  can  stay  here,  or  go  away  again,  or  rot,  or 
starve;,  or  do  any  thing  else  you  like,  so  that  none  of  your 
cursed  brood  ever  comes  near  me  again.  If  ever  you  get 
another  cent  of  my  money,  it  will  be  after  I  am  dead.  Now 
go — and  the  sooner  you  go  to  perdition,  the  better  1" 

They  went,  accordingly,  and  did  not  trouble  him  again — 
at  least  they  did  not  trouble  him  again  in  that  manner.  Three 
days  afterwards,  there  was  another  arrival  of  prisoners,  and 
some  bustle  on  Main  Street  in  front  of  the  prison, vin  conse- 
quence. A  few  of  the  prisoners  tried  the  dangerous  experi- 
ment of  thrusting  their  heads  out  of  the  windows  to  see 
what  was  the  cause  of  the  disturbance.  Three  ladies  were 
just  turning  the  corner  of  Twenty-fifth  Street  and  Main, 
when  one  of  them  looked  up  and  saw  the  row  of  heads.  A 
sentry  stood  at  the  corner — one  of  those  rough,  deadly 
marksmen  from  the  South-western  rivers.  The  woman, 
whose  eyes  were  heavy  and  red  with  liquor,  spoke  quickly 
and  sharply  to  the  soldier  : 

"Look,  quick,  at  the  end  window  there.  See  that  Yankee 
trying  to  escape.  Shoot  him,  and  I  will  give  you  a  gold 
dollar." 

The  last  word  was  scarcely  out  of  her  mouth,  when  the 
sentry,  who  probably  had  no  particular  objection  to  riddling 
any  part  of  the  building  where  a  "  Yank"  showed  his  head, 
raised  his  piece  and  fired  in  the  direction  indicated.  A  quick, 
sharp  cry,  and  the  head  at  that  particular  window  fell  inward, 
while  the  lady  with  red  eyes  handed  him  the  promised  dollar, 
was  thanked  with  a  chuckle,  and  passed  on. 

"Who  was  that,  mv  dear?''  asked  the  elder  ladv,  whoso 
29 


466  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

eves   had  not  caught  the  features  of  the  man  looking  out  of 
the  window. 

"That  was  my  husband"  answered  Olympia  Holt.  "  He 
has  called  me  'nigger'  often  enough,  and  just  before  he  went 
to  England  he  kicked  me  like  a  dog  1  Now  he  has  paid 
for  it  |" 

So  he  had  !  Lying  there  on  the  floor  of  the  Tobacco 
Warehouse,  with  the  top  of  his  head  carried  away  by  t tie 
ragged  bullet  and  his 'frightened  companions  rushing  fearfully 
up  to  see  who  had  been  the  last  victim, — he  had  paid,  so  far 
as  human  life  can  expiate  crime,  for  his  wrongs  to  Olympia 
Holt,  for  his  attempts  against  the  honor  of  Mary  Haviland, 
for  his  speculations  in  shoddy,  and  for  all  the  errors  and 
crimes  of  a  career  of  prostituted  power  that  had  wrought 
much  evil  and  little  good,  dazzled  the  world  without  bene- 
fitting it,  and  brought  no  blessing  to  humanity. 


Mrs.  Fullerton  was  "  in  high  feather  in  Secessia."  She 
and  her  daughters  must  be  so  still,  if  poor  Olympia  Holt's 
ruling  vice  has  not  ended  her  career  ;  for  a  few  weeks  ago  the 
Richmond  Whig  contained  a  notice  of  the  marriage  of  the 
young  lady  who  has  been  known  throughout  this  narrative  as 
Miss  Dora  Fullerton,  to  an  officer  holding  a  prominent  com- 
mand in  the  Confederate  army.  How  much  he  may  be  de- 
ceived in  the  "  best  blood  of  South  Carolina,"  we  have  no 
means  of  knowing  ;  but  it  is  almost  certain,  in  the  present 
pecuniary  position  of  the  rebels,  that  she  has  not  secured  her 
coveted  "  millionaire,"  though  she  may  find  her  happy  hus- 
band an  Earl,  Marquis  or  Duke,  some  day,  in  that  appanage 
of  the  French  Empire  known  as  the  Kingdom  of  Jefferson 
the  First.  Myra  and  Mildred,  Kate's  "  yo'ung  wretches,"  ac- 
companied the  family  Southward,  and  will  no  doubt  grow  up 
in  due  time  to  take  the  places  of  their  elders  and  illustrate 
their  education.  

Burtnett  Haviland,  passing  to  an  honorable  and  useful  po- 
sition in  another  mercantile  house,  (where,  by  the  way,  at  his 
instance,  little  Tim  the  squint-eyed  is  also  employed  in  his 
old  capacity)  after  his  return    and  the  permanent  disruption 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  467 

of  the  house  of  Charles  Holt  &  Andrews, — occupies  with 
Mary  and  little  Pet,  a  bouse  much  further  up-town  than  that 

on  East  Forty-eighth  Street,  ami  very  near  the  Harlem  river. 
They  did  not  return  to  the  same  house  at  all,  after  the  re- 
union, from  obvious  motives  of  policy  with  which  the  word 
"neighbors"  seems  to  have  some  mysterious  connection. 
There  is  no  shadow  between  their  lives  ;  and  he  would  be  a 
bold  man  who  should  attempt  weaving  another  to  intercept 
the  suushine  of  their  happiness,  and  a  skilful  man  who  should 
sueceed.  Unlike  many  others,  llaviland  had  "enough  of 
war'*  in  one  three-months  campaign.  He  has  not  faltered  in 
patriotism  or  purpose,  but  the  sweet  blonde  hair  of  Mary 
twines  around  him  and  the  clinging  pressure  of  her  lips  holds 
him  fast ;  and  after  suffering  so  much  in  one  absence,  how 
could  they  separate  again  ? 

The  suffering  of  that  time,  though  a  recollection  which  can 
never  be  effaced  from  the  mind  of  either  any  more  than  the 
Hebrew  Children  could  afterwards  lose  the  recollection  of 
that  hour  in  the  Fiery  Furnace  and  the  Hand  which  made 
the  glowing  embers  harmless  as  carpets  of  fallen  rose-leaves, 
— is  not  even  an  occasional  sadness  to  either,  now.  They 
can  even  jest,  in  the  full  security  of  their  returned  happiness, 
over  what  was  once  an  unendurable  agony — so  rapidly  do 
our  very  sensations  pass  and  become  outworn,  in  the  rapid 
progress  of  this  lightning  age.  Not  seldom,  when  the  M  llavi- 
land mischief"  comes  upon  the  ex-Zouave,  he  torments  his 
wife  (though  never  when  any  other  ear  can  catch  the  remark) 
by  dating  some  incident  before  or  after  "  the  time  when  she 
ran  away  with  the  policeman," — and  she  retaliates  by  making 
a  dies  n ota  out  of  "  the  time  when  he  jumped  out  of  the 
si  ore-house  window,  down  at  Alexandria."  One  name  sel- 
dom passes  between  them,  however — that  of  Charles  Holt, 
the  merchant.  They  have  buried  him,  even  in  the  same  grave 
with  his  splendid  powers  and  his  dangerous  vices. 

Captain  Jack,  like  Haviland  tired  of  war  and  no  longer  a 
soldier,  meets  him  occasionally,  and  the  past  that  is  really  so 
near  but  seems  so  far  away,  comes  back  to  officer  and  private 
as  they  speak  for  a  moment  of  the  deadly  peril  at  the  Slave 
Pen   or  the  fight  over   the  guns  of  Ayres*  battery  at  Sudley. 


468  THE      DATS      O  F      SnO  I)  D  Y. 

No  doubt  both  have  faults,  and  no  doubt  both  have  enemies  ; 
but  whether  because  of  this  or  in  spite  of  it,  they  are  not 
"likely  to  sever  the  friendship  that  grew  to  its  warmest  point 
in  the  midst  of  danger. 

There  is  still  "  help''  in  the  Havilands'  house — the  sub- 
dued, chastened  and  infinitely  more  loveable  remains  of  what 
once  was  Sarah  Sanderson.  She  can  be  trusted,  now,  and 
will  not  falter.  Both  the  evil  love  and  the  evil  hate  are  dead 
and  buried  out  of  sight.  It  is  doubtful  whether  Burtnett 
Haviland  has  ever  told  to  Mary  the  whole  of  the  poor  girl's 
story  ;  and  it  is  quite  as  well  that  he  should  not  have  done  so. 
Enough  that  she  is  safe  in  his  hands,  though  she  may  pass  out 
of  them,  some  day,  into  those  of  young  Foster,  not  a  Brigadier- 
General,  but  a  brother  clerk  again  with  Haviland  in  his  new 
house, — who  has  been  home  with  him  to  tea  in  a  good  many 
instances  within  the  last  few  months,  and  who  seems  a  little 
disposed  to  concentrate  himself  down  from  miscellaneous  ad- 
miration of  the  whole  sex,  to  adoration  of  one  very  small 
flaxen-haired  member  of  it  who  has  been  enough  tried  and 
refined  in  the  triple  furnace  of  guilt,  suffering  and  repentance, 
to  make  him  a  faithful  wife  if  he  takes  the  hazard.  His  bill 
for  smashed  crockery  may  be  a  little  heavy,  but  what  is  that 
as  an  item  in  domestic  life  ? 


Bonnie  Kate  Haviland  is  bonnie  as  ever,  but  Kate  Haviland 
no  more.  And  that  remarkable  young  lady  cannot  be  dis- 
missed without  a  little  additional  glimpse  of  her  demeanor 
and  the  choice  she  made  in  life  at  the  eventful  period  of  this 
story.  How  she  went  down  at  once  to  Duffsboro  and  to 
Aunt  Bessy  again,  the  moment  the  disruption  in  the  Fuller- 
ton  household  occurred,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she  was 
thrown  out  of  her  place  as  private-teacher  and  had  never  a 
country  school  to  go  back  to— the  reader  already  knows. 
Perhaps  the  reader  also  at  least  suspects  that  the  betrothed 
wife  of  a  millionaire  had  not  much  occasion  for  wearying  out 
indy  and  brain  for  the  miserable  pittance  of  a  school-mistress  ; 
but  the  truth  is  that  the  merry  girl  was  a  little  restless,  and 
i hat  if  she  could  have  picked  up  the  excuse  for  doing  some- 
thing a  little  independent  and  undignified,  even  if  it  brought 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  4  69 

her  no  money  whatever,  she  would  have  slightly  preferred 
that  course  to  inactivity.  It  has  already  been  intimated  that 
she  is  "  Kate  Haviland  no  more,"  so  that  if  not  dead  she  must 
be  married  ;  and  it  is  therefore  no  betrayal  of  any  thing  kept 
for  the  future,  to  illustrate  the  feature  in  her  character  just 
mentioned,  by  saying  that  on  her  marriage-day  (she  would 
be  married  in  the  old  country  style,  in  the  early  evening,  at 
home,  and  with  all  her  old  friends  gathered  about  her,  or 
never  marry  ! — she  said) — she  insisted  upon  spending  so 
much  time  in  polishing  up  the  brass  knob  of  the  front  door, 
in  a  shilling  calico,  a  pair  of  old  gloves,  and  her  chestnut  hair 
in  a  sad  but  bewitching  tumble,  that  the  earliest  of  the  guests 
caught  her  in  that  not-very-bridal  array  and  occupation,  and 
at  first  mistook  her  for  a  lazy  servant-girl  behind  time  ! 

But  this,  again,  anticipates,  even  if  it  does  not  betray; 
There  was  much  that  preceded  that  event,  and  some  of  it  de- 
manding relation. 

When  Kate  came  home  again  from  the  city,  her  first  busi- 
ness, as  has  before  been  seen,  was  to  discover  the  truth  with 
reference  to  the  maligned  cousin-in-law  who  had  preceded 
her;  and  when  she  found  how  terribly  she  had  herself  erred 
in  estimation,  to  make  such  amends  by  the  most  abject  hu- 
miliation as  the  generous  heart  is  ever  prompt  to  do  when 
made  aware  of  the  injustice  it  has  committed.  Her  third 
task,  as  we  have  also  seen,  was  the  attempt  to  console  Mary 
Haviland  under  the  fearful  grief  of  the  death  of  her  husband. 
But  the  second,  sandwiched  between  the  other  two,  was  ex- 
clusively personal  and  even  more  difficult  than  either  of  the 
others.  That  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than  to  inform  Aunt 
Bessy  how  rapid  progress  she  had  been  making  during  her 
short  stay  in  that  very  fast  place,  the  city — that  she  was  en- 
gaged to  be  married  !  She  tried  to  command  her  cheek  when 
she  caught  the  good  old  aunt  entirely  alone,  feeding  her  brood 
of  poultry,  in  the  back-yard,  one  morning;  but  the  tell-tale 
color  would  come,  and  she  not  only  blushed  but  actually  stam- 
mered (think  of  that,  with  her  glib  and  saucy  tongue  !)  and 
came  very  near  to  "  making  a  mess  of  it," 

"  Why,  you  dear  child  !"  was  the  surprised  exclamation  of 
Aunt  Bessy,  pausing  with  a  whole  handful  of  moistened  meal 


470  THE      DATS      OF      SHODDY. 

in  her  grasp,  the  hungry  brood  cackling  around  her  mean- 
while. For  such  particular  business  as  the  distribution  of 
food  to  her  poultry,  the  good  old  lady  always  wore  her  spec- 
tacles ;  and  the  way  in  which  she  looked  at  Kate  under  those 
glasses,  at  the  moment  of  making  the  exclamation,  the  ex- 
clamation and  the  look  both  seeming  to  say:  "There — that 
crazy  girl  has  been  at  another  one  of  her  pranks,  that  she 
can't  help,  I  suppose !" — did  not  in  the  least  tend  to  reassure 
the  young  lady  who  was  making  her  first  "confession." 

But  when  the  good  aunt  fairly  understood  the  whole  con- 
fession— that  her  niece  was  really  engaged  to  be  married  to  a 
young  man  belonging  to  one  of  the  first  families  of  the  great 
city,  a  man  of  fabulous  wealth,  who  might  have  married  the 
most  arrogant  belle  of  Fifth  Avenue — she  frightened  the 
young  girl  still  more  by  throwing  out  the  remainder  of  her 
meal,  going  to  the  little  bench  that  sjood  near  the  back-door 
of  the  farm-house,  setting  down  her  basin,  washing  her  hands 
and  drying  them  on  the  towel  hanging  there,  and  then  coming 
back  to  the  spot  where  Kate  stood,  opening  her  arms  and 
drawing  her  niece  to  her  bosom,  with  the  motherly  love,  com- 
pounded with  pity,  that  had  always  marked  her  demeanor  in 
the  old  time. 

"  Kate,"  she  said,  looking  the  young  girl  straight  in  the 
eyes,  "  has  this  man  been  trifling  with  you  ?"  The  country 
suspicion  was  probing  the  sincerity  of  the  city ;  the  honest 
country  woman  could  not  quite  believe  that  wealth  and  fashion 
would  seek  for  a  bride  in  that  hasty  and  incongruous  man- 
ner j  and  heaven  knows  what  terrible  thoughts  may  for  the 
moment  have  been  running  through  the  mind  of  the  widow 
.  who  was  so  good  herself  and  yet  not  so  good  as  to  ignore 
what  the  preacher  told  her  every  Sabbath  at  church — that 
this  was  a  "  wicked  and  deceitful  world."  Poor  Kate  at  least 
partially  understood  the  protecting  fear  and  fondness  of  that 
question  and  that  embrace  ;  she  remembered  the  pressure  that 
had  been  given  on  the  little  piazza  on  the  Sunday  morning 
when  she  believed  she  was  going  away  on  the  morrow ;  and 
a  flush  as  hot  as  even  guilt  could  have  manifested  and  yet  as 
delicate  as  the  most  spotless  innocence  could  have  demanded, 
burned  over  brow,  cheek  and  bosom,  as  she  replied  : 


THE       DAYS      OF       SHODDY.  471 

"  Xo,  Aunt — dear,  good  Aunt!  It  does  seem  strange 
enough,  does  it  not,  that  he  should  seek  me?  But  lie  has 
not  been  trilling  at  all — he  has  asked  me  to  be  his  true,  honest 
wife,  just  as  Uncle  Joseph  once  asked  you.V 

"Has  he? — you  dear,  dear  child  !"  said  the  aunt,  all  her- 
fears  driven  away  in  an  instant  by  the  words  of  the  young 
girl,  and  gathering  her  still  closer  to  her  breast.  Then  again 
still  another  thought  took  possession  of  her,  and  she  stated  a 
second  doubt  of  no  small  consequence. 

"  Katy,  is  he  good?  So  many  of  those  very  rich  men  in 
the  city,  I  have  heard,  lead  such  dreadful  lives  !  If  he  should 
not  be  good,  and  you  should  marry  him  and  find  your  whole 
future  life  embittered  by  neglect  and  ill-treatment,  while  he 
was  pursuing  the  pleasures  that  you  could  not  and  would  not 
share — what  would  become  of  you  ? — and  how  could  I  live 
when  I  knew  that  you  were  miserable  V 

It  was  Kate  Haviland'e  turn,  now,  to  become  the  soother 
and  apparently  the  protector.  They  were  her  arms  that 
supplied  the.  next  pressure,  and  it  was  her  voice,  all  its  em- 
barrassment shaken  off  and  the  old  mischief  rippling  in  it  most 
deliciously,  that  replied  : 

"  Aunt,  do  not  be  alarmed.  He  is  a  good  man — that  is,  as 
good  as  they  make  them.  I  would  stay  single  until  the  last 
man  on  earth  used  Sperling's  Amphobia  and  Bray's  Patent 
Hair-Dye  and  Professor  Drown's  Patent  Anti-Corrosive 
Artificial  Teeth  (warranted  for  two  years,  or  tal^n  back  and 
put  into  somebody  else's  mouth)  before  I  would  marry  a  man 
whom  I  did  not  know  to  be  something  else  than  the  miserable 
stuck-up  trifler  you  are  thinking  of  !  I  have  done  better  than 
that,  Aunt,  depend  upon  it,  though  he  is  a  little  odd  and  you 
may  see  some  things  in  him  that  will  bother  you  at  first." 

"  Well,  I  hope  be  is  all  that  you  believe,  Katy,  I  am  sure  !" 
said  the  aunt,  returning  the  caress  and  then  releasing  the 
young  girl. 

4i  And — Aunt — may  I  invite  him  to  come  over  her. 
the  fiance  with  again  a  little  hesitation  id  her  manner.     "I 
have  promised  to  write  to  him  in  a  day  or  two  ;   and  I  have 
spoken  so  much  of  you  and  the  old   place  to  him,  that  lu 


472  THE      DAYS      OF       SHODDY. 

wished  me  to  ask  if  he  might  come  and  see  how  you  liked 
him." 

"  Did  he,  child  ?"  asked  the  aunt,  flattered  by  this  proof  of 

attention.     "  Yes,  that  sounds  well.     Certainly,  ask    him  to 

e-  come  over  whenever  he  likes,  if  you  do  not  think  that  he  will 

be  afraid  of  the  living  and  fare  of  your  poor  country  friend.-.'' 

"  lie  will  be  ashamed  of  nothing  that  I  love,"  said  the 
young  girl,  proudly  ;  "  or  if  he  is,  and  shows  it,  he  may  go 
back  to  New  York  when  he  likes,  and  look  for  some  one  else 
to  help  him  spend  his  million  or  two  I" 

"  You  are  a  good  girl,  Kate.  You  always  were  a  good 
girl — a  little  wild  sometimes,  but  good — from  your  cradle," 
said  the  aunt,  her  eyes  moist  with  the  sad  pleasure  of  sorrow 
as  she  looked  back  into  the  past.  And  with  that  the  con- 
versation closed. 

The  result  of  that  conversation,  however,  was  that  in  the 
letter  which  went  to  New  York  from  the  little  village  post- 
office  the  next  morning,  Ned  Minthorne  was  invited  to  pay 
the  farm-house  at  Duffsboro  a  visit,  whenever  his  time 
allowed,  and  "  whenever,"  as  the  young  girl  took  care  to  add, 
"he  could  make  up  his  mind  to  dress  soberly  and  respecta- 
bly and  not  horrify  the  country  people  by  making  a  ninny  of 
himself." 

ItwTas  more  than  two  weeks  after,  when  Bull  Run  had  been 
fought  and  almost  all  the  other  incidents  herein  recorded  had 
taken  place — that  the  good  people  who  came  down  by  the 
steamboat  and  line  of  rail  leading  to  and  beyond  Duffsboro, 
experienced,  on  the  Saturday  afternoon  run,  something  like 
the  same  sensation  felt  by  the  Roman  warrior  in  the  thick 
of  the  great  battle,  when  Castor  and  Pollux  burst  upon  his 
view,  and 

" — He  was  aware  of  a  princely  pair 
That  rode  at  his  right  hand." 

In  other  words,  the  good  people  were  "  taken  down  a  peg", 
as  some  <3f  them  expressed  it  in  their  homely  but  graphie 
phfase,  by  the  appearance  on  the  steamer  and  the  cars,  of  a 
male  human  flower  of  such  gorgeous  color  and  general  ap- 
pearance that  all  the  centuries  of  ordinary  human  production 
seemed  to  have  been  mere  preparations  for  his  arrival.     Mr. 


THE       DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  473 

Minthorne,  on  that  occasion,  strictly  obeying  the  instructions 
of  Kate,  who  was  so  anxious  that  he  should  in  the  first 
instance  neither  frighten  nor  shock  her  friends  in  the  country, 
and  especially  Aunt  Bessy, — appeared  in  coat,  pants  and  treat 
of  light  violet  summer-cloths  evidently  new  and  got  up  far 
the  occasion — the  pants  even  wider  than  any  that  he  had 
before  worn,  and  actually  forming  a  loose  bag  divided  by 
a  sectional  slit — the  coat  so  short  as  to  be  little  more  than  a 
jacket,  and  very  close  at  the  body,  while  the  sleeves  con- 
tained nearly  as  much  material  as  the  legs  of  the  trousers . 

the  patent-leathers  of  the  most  dazzling  polish — the  hat 
another  of  the  "  tourist"  shape,  still  lower  in  the  round 
crown  and  narrower  in  the  brim  than  any  that  had  preceded 
it — the  gloves  bright  yellow— the  neck-tie  cherry-color — the 
collar  garotte  of  painful  tightness — the  malacca  cane  with  the 
Phidian  limb  for  a  head,  retained  and  duly  switched — the 
short  light-brown  curly  hair  parted  in  the  middle  and  form- 
ing little  horns  at  the  two  brows,  something  like  those  that 
the  old  painters  have  unaccountably  made  Moses  wear  on 
Sinai — the  side  whiskers  more  luxuriously  pendant  than 
ever — and,  to  complete  the  equipment,  a  gold  eye-glass 
(which  he  had  never  before  been  in  the  habit  of  wearing, 
even  in  his  ivorst  moments)  dangling  by  a  blue  ribbon  from 
his  neck  and  periodically  applied  to  his  ^ve  when  he  had 
occasion  to  draw  up  his  nez  retrousse  with  the  affectation  of 
being  near-sighted. 

This  was  the  figure  that  the  good  people  saw,  coming  down 
on  the  steamer  and  on  the  cars.  This  was  the  figure  that 
they  saw  disembark,  with  a  large  valise,  at  the  station  nearest 
Duffsboro,  and  hire  an  open  country-wagon  as  a  hack  to  take 
him  over  to  "Mrs.  White's  farm-house."  And  if  they  were 
all  struck  with  horror  and  amazement  that  anv  man  living 
could  be  fool  enough  to  dress  in  that  outrageous  manner, 
what  were  the  feelings  of  Kate  Haviland,  when, — after  wait- 
ing his  arrival  with  a  good  deal  of  real  impatience  to  see  the 
"dear,  good  fellow,"  and  some  anxiety  to  know  what  con- 
eessions'he  would  be  found  to  have  made  to  her  wishes  on 
that  occasion, — she  saw  him  land  at  the  gate  and  approach 
the  piazza,  valise  in  hand,  in  that  hideous  disguise,  his  eye- 


474  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

glass   in   his  eye,  and   such  an  expression  of  gooit-nntured 
.   rampant  from  brow  to  chin  that  it  did  not  appear  as 
if  he  knew  enough  to  come  into  the  house  from  the  street 
when  it  rained  ! 

For  a  moment,  at  the  first  glimpse  of  him,  the  young  girl 
was  so  mortified  and  almost  angry,  that  she  came  very  near 
bursting  into  tears,  running  away  up-stairs  and  refusing  to  see 
her  visitor  at  all,  or  acknowledge  that  she  had  ever  known  him. 
And  certain  it  is  that  the  wealth  of  Ned  Minthorne  did  not 
restrain  her  from  that  course  of  action  which  would  probably 
have  separated  them  forever,— while  something  else — yee, 
the  warm  regard,  respect  and  love  that  she  bore  the  odd  hu- 
man compound  inside  of  the  violet  clothes,  unquestionably 
did  produce  the  restraint.'  She  forced  down  both  the  tears 
that  wanted  to  come  and  the  blush  of  mortification  that 
would  come  in  spite  of  her,  and  came  out  at  the  door  to  re- 
ceive the  nondescript,  meeting  him  at  the  edge  of  the  piazza 
with  outstretched  hand,  but  with  tbe  pouting  words  : 

"  How  you  mind  me,  Ned  Minthorne,  don't  you  !  You're 
a  beauty!" 

"  Humph  ! — glad  you  like  me  !  Had  to  get  a  new  suit  to 
come  down,  you  know.  How  are  you  all  ?  Kiss  me,  Kate  !'' 
was  the  reply,  in  his  very  worst  affected  drawl — the  latter 
part  probably  a  quotation  from  Shakspeare's  Hotspur,  but 
spoken,  and  act<  a,  as  if  original,  as  he  proceeded  with  his 
right  hand  to  encircle  the  young  girl's  waist  and  secure  the 
answer  to  his  demand,  his  left  still  occupied  with  holding  the 
valise. 

"  Set  down  that  valise  and  don't  be  a  ninny.  But  here 
comes  auut,  and  what  will  she  think  of  you!*'  was  the  reply 
of  the  young  girl,  after  the  kiss  had  been  warmly  accorded 
bv  the  very  lips  that  carried  the  pout,  and  as  she  saw  the 
good  old  lady  coming  out  of  the  door,  resplendent  in  a  new 
cap  with  bright  ribbons,  and  her  very  best  evening  dress,  both 
put  on  in  honor  of  the  expected  coming  of  Kate's  "beau." 

"  Mr.  Minthorne— my  aunt,  Mrs.  White/'  said  Kate,  intro- 
ducing, though  she  was  in  a  terrible  tremor  all  the  while. 

"  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Minthorne,"  said  the  good  old  lady, 
extending  her  hand,  though  there  was  something  of  disap- 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHOD  DY.  475 

pointrnent  and  almost  of  pain  in  her  face,  that  both  the  young 
girl  and  her  lover  saw,  and  that  produced  very  different  effects 
on  the  two.  Kate  llaviland  was  nearly  ready  to  sink  with 
vexation  and  a  feeling  of  bother,  and  in  her  heart  she  was 
saying:  "See  if  I  don't  make  you  pay  for  this  trick  and 
mortification,  old  fellow,  some  day  when  I  get  my  opportu- 
nity I"  Ned  Minthorne,  meanwhile,  though  he  was  really 
impressed  by  the  matronly  beauty  and  evident  goodness  of 
Mistress  Bessy  White,  could  not  stop  to  recognize  such  things 
just  then,  and  carried  out  his  role  by  a  half-idiotic  stare  and 
a  drawled : 

"  Glad  to  have  the  pleasure  of  knowing  Mrs.  White,  I  am 
sure.  Fine  evening,  and  you  have  a  deuced  nice  place  here, 
you  know  !" 

"  Yes,  sir,  a  pleasant  place  enough  for  poor  folks,  and  I 
am  glad  you  like  it,"  answered  Aunt  Bessy,  dryly.  Then  she 
called  her  "  help"  from  within,  informed  Mr.  Minthorne  that 
his  room  was  ready  for  him,  and  sent  him  up-stairs  with  the 
girl,  apparently  a  little  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  him,  and  re- 
taining Kate  on  the  porch,  as  if  she  had  something  important 
to  communicate.     And  so  she  had — really. 

"  Kate,"  she  said,  when  he  had  gone,  adjusting  the  spectacles 
on  her  nose,  coming  close  to  the  young  girl,  and  this  time 
looking  over  the  glasses  instead  of  under  them — "Kate,  you 
dear  child,  haven't  you  made  a  terrible  mistake  ?  I  don't 
think  he  has  been  trifling  with  you,  now  that  I  see  him,  but, 
Kate,  is  that  man  sensible  V 

Those  who  know  what  the  last  word  means,  in  ordinary 
country  parlance,  as  opposed  to  "  idiotic"  can  understand 
the  whole  significance  of  Aunt  Bessy's  new  fear.  She 
really  believed  fhat  Kate  had  been  promising  to  marry  an 
absolute  natural,  and  she  had  keenness  enough  to  know 
that  even  wealth  could  not  gild  and  make  endurable  such  a 
connection. 

But  the  answer  to  this  was  what  she  had  least  expected — 
a  clear  ringing  laugh  from  Kate,  that  went  out  on  the  air  of 
early  evening  and  must  have  made  the  birds  just  folding  their 
wings  for  repose  wink  their  bright  eyes  in  momentary  wake- 
fulness.    The  ridiculousness  of  the  whole  thing  had  at  last 


476  THE      DAYS      O  F      SHODDY. 

overcome  her  vexation,  and  she  was  really  enjoying  it,  now 
that  the  torture  was  over. 

"Yes,  Aunt,"  she  said,  when  her  pear  of  laughter  was 
ended.  "I  shall  be  obliged  to  betray  him,  since  he  will  not 
mind  me.  He  is  sensible  enough,  and  some  people  think  that  he 
is  smart  as  a  steel-trap.  But  he  is  the  queerest  fellow  and  the 
greatest  quiz  in  the  world  ;  and  he  has  put  on  all  that,  clothes 
and  manner,  on  purpose  to  come  down  here,  set  all  the  people 
along  the  line  talking,  deceive  you  and  vex  me. " 

Aunt  Bessy  was  not  in  the  habit  of  using  hard  words  ;  but 
she  did  say,  when  her  unsuspicious  mind  had  fairly  taken  in 
the  whole  arrangement,  and  with  an  emphasis  denoting  that 
she  might  "  owe  that  young  man  one,"  some  time  or  other, 
for  attempting  to  quiz  her  : 

"  Drat  his  picture  !" 

Yet  Aunt  Bessy  forgave  the  ex-"  millionaire  noodle,"  when 
he  came  down  stairs  on  Sunday  morning,  dressed  for  church 
at  the  little  village,  in  garments  rich  and  costly  but  plain 
enough  to  have  beseemed  the  most  unpretending  man  in  the 
country,  and  his  hair  neatly  parted  at  the  side,  perhaps  by 
fairer  hands  than  even  his  own — when  his  words  were  those 
of  manly  dignity  and  propriety — and  when  she  saw  him  look- 
ing upon  Kate  with  a  world  of  pride  and  affection  in  his  eyes, 
waiting  for  the  time  to  come  when  he  should  gather  her 
home  to  his  heart  and  hold  her  there  for  evermore. 

And  he  did  so  gather  her,  as  has  already  been  indicated,  in 
due  time, — with  the  double  blessing  of  the  good- old  minister 
of  the  village  church  with  the  w7hite  spire,  and  of  the  good 
aunt  who  had  trained  him  a  wife  shaming  in  beauty  and 
goodness  all  the  "  wealthy  curled  darlings"  of  fashion,  met 
day  by  day  in  the  street,  in  the  rich  drawing-rooms  of  Mur- 
ray Hill,  at  the  Tiger  Ball,  at  the  opera  and  at  Saratoga. 

And  that  is  how  bonnie  Kate  Haviland  is  Kate  Haviland 
no  longer.  Married  to  the  millionaire,  and  as  she  had  her- 
self once  said — "  much  more  than  that — a  really  nice,  clever 
fellow,"  in  the  fall  of  1861,— she  spent  the  summer  of  1863 
with  him  in  Europe  ;  and  that  of  1863  has  been  passed  by 
herself  and  others  {two  others — little  people,  both  of  the  male 
sex  and  the  same  age  :  a  shameful   revelation  of  the  ungov- 

; 


THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY.  477 

errrable  character  of  the  ex-teacher,  but  one  that  must  be 
made  !)  with  Aunt  Bessy,  beside  the  rose-busbes  and  under 
the  fruit  trees  of  the  old  farm-house  at  Duffsbpro ;  while 
Ned  Minthorne,  with  not  much  time  now  for  Dumlreai'v  mas- 
querading, has  agajn  been  absent  in  Eurppe  on  special  busi- 
ness for  the  government,  with  which  it  would  seem  probable 
that  he  must  have  had  some  confidential  connection,  under 
his  mask  of  millionaire  noodle,  during  all  the  time  covered 
by  this  relation. 

The  "  Days  of  Shoddy,"  as  designated  by  that  name,  began 
with  the  commencement  of  the  War  for  the  Union,  though 
the  habit  of  swindling  City,  State  and  National  governments 
even  more  deeply  than  individuals,  had  long  before  that  time 
been    educating    the    national    character  for  such  an    issue. 
They  have  not  ended  now,  though  the  struggle  may  be  more 
or  less  nearly  approaching  its  termination.     It  is  certain  that 
they  will  not  end  until  the  contest  closes,  and  they  mav  linger 
long  after.     While  the  nation  remains  in  distress  or  society 
convulsed,  thieves  (moral,  social  and  pecuniary)  will  continue 
to  embrace  their  opportunity.     Men  of  the  stamp  of  Charles 
Holt,  merchant,  will  still  attempt  to  outrage  every  precept  of 
honor  and  virtue,  by  such  arts  as  have  been  shown  connected 
with  his  career;   and  they  will  not   think   it  beneath  them, 
while  they  are  taking  advantage  of  the  absence  of  patriotic 
men  in  the  public  service,  to  destroy  the  peace  of  homes  once 
happy,— -to  buy  and  sell  a  few  rotten, satinets,  shoddy  clothes, 
shoes  with  glued  soles,  muskets  without  vents  and  tents  made" 
of  six-cent  muslin,  and  all  other  army  supplies  of  a  corres- 
ponding character,  to  maintain  or  increase  ill-won  fortunes,  or 
to  furnish  themselves  with  the  means  of  indulging  the  costlier 
luxuries  and  vices.     Men  who  can  find  sale  for  munitions  of 
war,  useful   or  worthless,  at  prices  four    or  ten   times  their 
actual  cost,  will  not  cease  to  urge  such   measures    as  must 
prolong  the  evil   harvest.     So-called  statesmen  and  political 
Generals    who    know   that    they    can    keep    no   hold   upon 
rich   salaries   or  public  honors  from  the  day   when  the  war 
(•loses,  will  assist  in  crippling  and  hindering  it,  and  yet  keep- 
ing   it   fastened    upon    the    eountry,    under   one   pretence  or 
another  of  ardent  patriotism. 


478  THE      DAYS      OF      SHODDY. 

The  pecuniary  dishonesty  of  the  shoddy  age  will  all  the 
while  be  the  most  contemptible  of  all,  though  by  no  means 
the  most  guilty.  The  wealth  suddenly  acquired  by  knavery 
is  sure  to  curse  its  holder  with  ridicule,  if  it  brings  with  it 
no  wTorse  punishment.  The  wife  of  the  shoddy  millionaire 
will  buy  diamonds  that  she  can  neither  appreciate  nor  value 
and  wear  them  so  unfitly  and  ungracefully  that  every  gem 
will  cast  a  new  ray  of  light  on  the  splendid  misery  of  her 
position.  The  shoddy  millionaire  himself  will  struggle  for 
places  in  social  life  and  public  employment,  for  which  he  is 
no  more  fitted  than  desired  ;  and  every  upward  step  which  he 
succeeds  in  taking  will  but  make  him  a  more  shining  mark  for 
covert  ridicule  or  open  detestation.  His  daughters  will  strug- 
gle for  incongruous  marriages,  and  be  equally  miserable 
whether  they  succeed  or  fail ;  and  his  sons  will  disgrace  the 
country  abroad,  as  types  (Heaven  save  the  mark  !)  of  the 
American  gentleman, — will  buy  worthless  daubs  in  Europe 
as  pictures  by  the  Old  Masters,  or  eat  fish  with  a  knife,  ask 
for  "  more  of  them  'ere  taters''  and  send  up  their  plates  twice 
for  soup,  to  the  intense  disgust  of  Newport  and  Saratoga. 

And  eventually,  all  that  has  been  ill-wron  will  be  as  rapidly 
lost.  Cinders  in  the  hand  and  Dead  Sea  ashes  upon  the 
tongue,  must  be  the  end  of  the  objects  unholily  grasped  and 
tasted.  Xo  "moth  can  corrupt  or  thieves  break  through 
and  steal,"  so  certainly  and  so  quickly  as  with  gain  acquired 
at  the  sacrifice  of  every  noble  and  patriotic  impulse.  For 
God  yet  lives,  the  courses  of  nature  are  not  changed,  the 
sunshine  smiles  broad  upon  the  earth,  the  stars  keep  their 
places  in  the  blue  heaven,  the  waves  of  the  ocean  keep  their 
appointed  bound,  and  the  rivers  run  sparkling  to  the  sea. 
And  in  His  hand  lie  the  destinies  of  men,  after  all  that  their 
own  hands  have  wrought — the  destinies  of  the  republic,  after 
all  that  has  been  done  by  the  faithful  to  preserve  and  by  the 
dishonest  and  the  reckless  to  destroy  it. 


THE   END. 


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ILLUSTRATED   OCTAVO  EDITION. 


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Nicholas  Nickleby, Cloth,  2  00 

Oreat  Expectations,. ..Cloth,  2.00 
Lamplighter's  Story,. .Cloth,  2.00 

Oliver    Twist, Cloth,  2.00 

Bleak  House, Cloth,  2.00 

Little   Dorrlt,  Cloth,  2.00 

Dombey  and   Son, Cloth,  2.00 

Sketches  by  "  Boz,".... Cloth,  2.00 
Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  cloth,  in  17  volumes..  . 

Full  Law  Library  stvle  .         *',Z 

«    Half caif,  sprinkled  edoes ..:::;;;.".;;:;:;; J«  JJ 

"        Half  calf,  marbled  edges ^.00 

"        Half  calf,  antique  .......  5 

"        Half  calf,  full  gilt  backs,  etc !"..'.' .7. '. '.'.!.' 

PEOPLE'S  DUODECIMO  EDITION, 

Pickwick  Papers,  Cloth,  $1.75 

Nicholas  Nickleby,...  Cloth,  1.75 
Great  Expectations, ...Cloth,  1.7fi 
Lamplighter's  Story,. .Cloth,  1.75 

I>avid  Copperneld,  Cloth,  1.75 

Oliver   Twist, Cloth,  1.75 

Bleak  House, Cloth,  1.75 

A   Tale    of   Two   Cities, 1.75 

Dickens'  New  Stories, 1.50 


David  Copperneld, Cloth,  2.00 

Barnaby  Budge, Cloth,  2.00 

Martin  Chuzzlewit,... Cloth,  2.00 
Old  Curiosity  Shop,. ...Cloth,  2.00 

Christmas   Stories, Cloth,  2.00 

Dickens'   New    Stories, 2.00 

A    Tale   of   Two   Cities, 2.00 

American  Notes  and 
Pic-Nic    Papers, Cloth,  2.00 


60.00 
60.00 


Little  Dorrlt, Cloth,  1.75 

Dombey  and   Son, Cloth,  1.75 

Christmas  Stories. Cloth,  1.7.1 

Sketches  by  "Boz, ».... Cloth,  1.75 

Barnaby  Rudge, Cloth,  17. 

Martin  Chuzzlewit, ...Cloth,  ].;:, 
Old  Curiosity  Shop,...  Cloth,  1.75 

Dickens'   Short  Stories, L60 

Message   from  the  Sea, 1.50 

Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  cloth,  in  17  volumes 400  on 

Full  Law  Library  stvle V/"° 

"  "        Half  calf,  sprinkled  edges .^m 

Half  calf,  marbled  edges T7fto 

"        Half  calf,  antique .'    **  0f 

"        Half  calf,  full  gilt  backs.etc 

**        Full  calf,  antique .!!.""..."!.'.. .'.'.' 

"        Full  calf,  gilt  edges,  backs,  etc ".'...."!"!............. 


50.00 
50.00 
60.00 
60.00 


ILLUSTRATED  DUODECIMO  EDITION. 


Sketches  by  "  Boz,". ..Cloth,  3.00 

Barnaby  Rudge, Cloth,  3.00 

Martin  Chuzzlewit,... Cloth,  3.00 
Old  Curiosity  Shop,. ..Cloth,  3.00 

Little  Dorrlt Cloth,  3.00 

Dombey  and  Son Cloth,  3.00 


Pickwick  Papers, Cloth,  $3.00 

Tale  of  Two  Cities,. ...Cloth,  3.00 

Nicholas   Nickleby,. ...Cloth,  3.00 

David  Copperneld, Cloth,  3.00 

Oliver    Twist, Cloth,  3.00 

Christmas  Stories, Cloth,  3.00 

Bieak  House, Cloth,  3.00 

Each  of  the  above  are  complete  in  two  volumes,  illustrated. 

Great  Expectations,...Cloth,  1  75  I  Dickens'  New  Stories,  1  75 

Lamplighter's    Siory, 175  I  Message  from  the  Sea, 1  75 

Price  J  i  set,  in  Thijty  volumes,  bound  in  Black  cloth,  gilt  backs $15  00 

lull  Law  Librarv  style -,-,,., 

Half  calf,  antique qo"^ 

"        Half  calf,  full  gilt  back .......J"~'Z~" Mrtft 


Full  calf,  gilt  edges,  backs,  etc ......JJ! !!!!!!«  100^00 


4    T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATION^. 


CHARLES  DICKENS'   WORKS. 
CHEAP  EDITION,  PAPER  COVER. 
This  edition  is  published  complete  in  Twenty-two  large  octavo  volumes,  in  pape* 
cover,  as  follows.  Price  Fifty  cents  a  volume. 


Pickwick  Papers. 
Great  Expectations. 
A   Tale  of  Two  Cities. 
New  Years'  Stories. 
Barnaby  Rudge. 

Old  Curiosity  Shop. 
Little  Dorrit. 

David  Copperfield. 
Sketches   hy  "Boi." 
Dickens'  Sew  Stories. 
American  Notes. 


Oliver  Twist. 
Lamplighter's  Story. 
Donihey  and  Son. 
Nicholas  Nicklehy. 
Holiday  Stories. 

Martin    Cliuzzlewit* 
Bleak  House. 
Dickens'  Short  Stories. 
Message  from  the  Sea. 
Christmas   Stories. 
Plc-Nic  Papers. 


LIBRARY  OCTAVO  EDITION.     IN  SEVEN  VOLUMES. 
This  editi.m  is  iu  SEVEN  very  large  octavo  volumes,  with  a  Portrait  on  steel  of 
Charts  Dickens,  and  bound  in  the  following  vari.  us  styles. 

Price  of  a  set,  in  Black  Cloth,  in  seven  volumes, $14  00 

Scarlet  cloth,  extra, 15  00 

"  M  Law  Library  stvle 17fl0 

"  "  Half  calf,  sprinkled  edges, 20.00 

'!  Halfcalf,  marbled  edges., 21.00 

•«  "  Half  calf,  antique 2-VOO 

Halfcalf,  full  gilt  backs,  etc., 25.00 

CHARLES    LEVER'S    WORKS. 

Fine  Edition,  bound  separately. 


Charles  O'Malley,  cloth, $1.50 

Harry  Lorrequer,  cloth, 1.50 

Jack  Hinton,  cloth,  1.50 

Davenport  Dunn,  cloth, 1.50 

Tom  Burke  of  Ours,  cloth,.  1.50  I 


Arthur  O'Leary,  cloth, 1.50 

Con  Cregan,  cloth , 1.50 

Knight  of  Gwynne,  cloth,..  1.50 

Valentine  Vox,  cloth, 1.50 

Ten  Thousand   a  Year,..  .  1.50 


CHARLES   LEVERS  NOVELS 

All  neatly  done  up  in  paper  covers. 
Charles  O'Malley,... .Price  50  cts. 

Harry    Lorrequer, 50     " 

Horace    Templeton, 50    " 

Tom   Burke  of  Ours, 50    " 

Jack  Hinton,  the  Guards 


.50 


LIBRARY 


Arthur  O'Leary, 50  ets. 

The  Knight  of  Gwynne,  50  " 

Kate    O'Donoghue, 50  " 

Con     Cregan,   the     Irish 

Gil  Bias, 50  " 

Davenport  Dunn, 50    " 

EDITION. 


THIS  EDITION  is  complete  in  FIVE  large  octavo  volumes,  containing  Charles 
O'Mallpy,  Harrv  Lorrequer,  Horace  Templeton,  Tom  Burke  of  Ours,  Arthur  O'Leary, 
Jack  Hinton  the  Guardsman.  The  Knight  of  Gwynne,  Kate  O'Donoghue,  etc.,  hand- 
somely printed,  and  bound  in  various  styles,  as  follows : 

P-ice  of  a  set  in  Black  cloth $7.50 

Scarlet  cloth, 

"  "        Law  Lihrarv  sheep, B.75 

"  «'        Half  Calf,  sprinkled  edges, 12.00 

Half  Calf,  marbled  edges, 13.50 

Half  Calf,  antique, 15.0$ 


T.  B  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    § 


WILKIE    COLLINS'   GREAT    WORKS. 


The  Dead  Secret.  One  volume, 
octavo,  paper  cover.  Price  fifty  cents  ; 
or  bound  iu  oue  vol.,  cloth,  for  75  cts.  ; 
or  a  flue  12mo.  editiou,  in  two  vols,, 
paper  cover,  iu  largo  type,  for  Oue 
Dollar,  or  in  oue  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

The  Crossed  Path;  or,  Basil. 
Complete  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover. 
Price  One  Dollar  ;  or  bound  iu  one  vol- 
ume, cloth,  for  $1.50. 

The  Stolen  Mask.    Price  25  cents. 


Hide  and  Seek.  One  vol.,  octavo, 
paper  cover.  Price  fifty  cents;  01 
bound  iu  oue  vol.,  cloth,  for  7fi  cents. 

After  Dark.  One  vol.,  octavo,  paper 
cover  Price  fifty  cents  ;  or  bouud  in 
oue  vol.,  cloth,  for  75  cents. 

Sights  A-foot;  or  Travels  Beyond 
Railways.  One  volume,  octavo,  paper 
cover.     Price  50  cents. 

The  Yellow  Mask..    Price  25  cts. 

Sister  Rose.     Price  25  ceuts. 


COOK    BOOKS. 


Petersons'   New   Cook    Book; 

or  Tseful  Receipts  for  the  Housewife 
and  the  Uninitiated.  Pull  of  valuable 
receipts,  all  original  and  never  before 
published,  all  of  which  will  be  found 
to  be  very  valuable  and  of  daily  use. 
One  vol.,  bound.  Price  $1.50. 
Miss  Leslie's  New  Cookery 
Book.  Being  her  last  new  book. 
One  volume,  bound.     Price  $1.50. 


Widdifleld's  New  Cook  Book; 
or,  Practical  Receipt*  for  the  House- 
wife.    Cloth.     Price  $1.25. 

Mrs.  Hale's  New  Cook  Book. 

Bv  Mrs.  Sarah  J.  Hale.     One  volume, 
bound.     Price  $1.25. 

Miss  Leslie's  New  Receipts 
for  Cooking.  Complete  in  one 
volume,  bound.     Price  $1 .25. 


MRS.   HALE'S    RECEIPTS. 
Mrs.    Hale's    Receipts    for    the    Million.     Containing  4545  Receipts. 
By  Mrs.  Sarah   J.  Hale.     One  vol.,  800  pa^es,  strongly  bound.     Price,  $1.50. 

MISS    LESLIE'S    BEHAVIOLR    BOOK. 
Mir*    Leslie's    Behaviour   Book.    A   complete   Guide   and   Manual   for 
Ladies.     Price  $1.50. 

FRANCATELLI'S  FRENCH  COOK. 
Francatelli's  Celebrated  French  Cook  Book.  The  Modern 
Cook.  A  Practical  Guide  to  the  Culinary  Art,  in  all  its  branches;  comprising, 
in  addition  to  English  Cookery,  the  most  approved  and  recherche  systems  of 
French,  Italian,  and  German  Cookerv  ;  adapted  as  well  for  the  largest  establish- 
ments, as  for  the  use  of  private  "families.  By  CHARLES  ELME  FRANCA- 
TELLI,  pupil  to  the  celebrated  Careme,  and  late  Matre-d'H-tel  and  Chief  Cook 
to  her  Majesty,  the  Queen  of  England.  With  Sixty-Two  Illustrations  of  rariooj 
dishe3.  Reprinted  from  the  last  London  Edition,  carefully  revised  and  consider- 
ably enlarged.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo  volume  of  Six  Hundred  pages, 
strongly  bound,  aud  printed  on  the  finest  double  super-calendered  paper.  Price 
Three  Dollars  a  copy. 

J.  A.  MAITLAND'S   GREAT  WORKS. 

The  Diary  of  an  Old  Doctor. 

Tw*  vols.,  paper  cover.  Price  $1.00; 
or  bound  in  cloth  for  $1.50. 

The  Lawyer's  Story.  Two  vol- 
umes, paper  cover.  Price  $1.00;  or 
bound  in  cloth  for  $1  50. 

Sartaroe.  A  Tale  of  Norway. 
Two  vols.,  pn per  cover.  Price  $1.00; 
or  in  cloth  for  $1.50. 


The   Three    Cousins.     By  J.  A. 

Maitland.     Two   vols.,   paper.      Price 

$1 .00  ;  or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 
The  Watchman.    Complete  in  two 

lartre  vols.,  paper  cover.    Price  $1.00; 

or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 
The   "Wanderer.     Complete  in  two 

volumes,   paper  cover.     Price  $1.00 ; 

or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

MRS.    DANIELS'    GREAT    WORKS. 

Marryinfr  for  Money.    One  vol.,  |  The  Poor  Cousin.     Price  50  cents 


octavo,  paper  cover.    Price  fifty  cents 
•rone  vol.,  cloth,  75  cents. 


Kate     Walsingham. 

ceuts. 


Price    50 


6    T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


ALEXANDER  DUMAS'  WORKS. 


Count    ol     Monte -Cristo.      By 

Alexander  Dumas.  Beautifully  illus- 
trated, one  volume,  cloth,  91.50  ;  or 
iu  two  volumes,  paper  cover,  lor  $1.00. 

The  Conscript.  Two  vols.,  paper 
over.  Price  Oue  Dollar;  or  in  one 
volume,  cloih,  tor  $1.50. 

Camille;  or  tlie  Fate  of  a 
Coquette.  Only  correct  Translation 
from  the  Original  French.  Two  vol- 
umes, paper,  price  $1.0<f;  cloth,  $1.50. 

The  Three  GuarcUmen.  Price 
75  cents,  in  paper  cover,  or  a  finer 
edition  in  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

Twenty  Years  After.  A  Sequel 
to  the  "  Three  Guardsmen."  Price  75 
cents,  in  paper  cover,  or  a  finer  edition, 
iu  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1,501 

Bragelonne;  the  Son  of  Athos: 
being  the  continuation  of  "Twenty 
Years  After."  Price  75  cents,  iu  paper, 
or  a  finer  edition,  In  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

The  Iron  Mask.  Being  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  "Three  Guardsmen." 
Two  vols.,  paper  cover.  Price  Oue 
Dollar  ;  or  in  oue  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 

Louise  La  Valliere  5  or,  The 
Second  Series  aud  end  of  the  "Iron 
Mask."  Two  volume-*,  paper  cover. 
Price  $1 .00,  or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  $1 .50. 

The  Memoirs  of  a  Physician. 
Beautifully  Illustrated.  Two  vols., 
paper  cover.  Price  Oue  Dollar;  or 
bound  iu  oue  volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

The  Queen's  Necklace.  A  Se- 
quel to  the  "  Memoirs  of  a  Physician." 
Two  vols  ,  paper  cover.  Price  $1.00  ; 
or  in  oue  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

Six  Years  Later;  or,  Taking  of 
theBastile.  A  Continuation  of  "The 
Queen's  Necklace."  Two  vols.,  paper 
cover.  Price  Oue-  Dollar;  or  in  one 
vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

Countess    of    Charny;    or,    The 

Fall  of  the  French  Monarchy.  Sequel 
to  Six  ream  Later.  Two  vols.,  paper 
cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  in  one 
volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 


Andree  de  Taverney.  A  Seqael 
to  aud  continuation  of  the  Countess  of 
Charny.  Two  volumes,  paper.  Price 
$1.00;  or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1. ."><>. 

The  Chevalier.  A  Sequel  to,  and 
final  end  of  "  Andree  De  Taverney." 
One  vol.     Price  75  cents. 

The  Adventures  of  a  Mar- 
quis. Two  vols.,  paper  cover.  Price 
i.00;  or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

The  Forty-Five  Guardsmen. 
Price  75  cents,  or  a  finer  edition  in  one 
volume,  cloth.     Price  $1.50. 

The  Iron  Hand.  Price  75  cents, 
in  paper  cover,  or  a  finer  edition  in 
one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

Diana  of  Meridor.  Twovolumps, 
paper  cover.  Price  One  Dollar  ;  or  iu 
oue*vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

Edniond  Dantes.  Being  a  Sequel 
to  Dumas'  celebrated  novel  of  the 
"Count  of  Moute-Cristo."  Price  50  cts. 

Annette  ;  or,  The  Lady  of  the 

Pearls.  A  Compauiou  to  "Camilla." 
Price  50  cents. 

The  Fallen  Angel.  A  Story  of 
Love  and  Life  in  Paris.  One  volume. 
Price  50  ceuts. 

The  Man  with  Five  Wives. 
Complete  in  one  volume.    Price  50  cts. 

George  ;  or.  The  Planter  of 
the  Isle  of  France.  One  vol- 
ume.    Price  Fifty  cents. 

Genevieve ;  or,  The  Chevalier  of 
Maisou  Rouge.  One  volume.  Illus- 
trated.    Price  50  ceuts. 

The  Mohicans  of  Paris.    50  cts. 

Sketches    in   France.      50  cents. 

Isabel  of  Bavaria.     Price  50  cts. 

Felina  de  Chamhure ;  or,  The 
Female  r'iend.     Price  50  cents. 

The  Horrors  of  Paris.    50  cents. 

The  Twin  Lieutenants.  One 
vol.     Price  50  cts. 

The  Corsican  Brothers.    25  cts. 


FRANK    E.     SMEDLEY'S     WORKS. 


Harry  Coverdale's  Courtship 
and  Marriage.  Two  vols.,  paper. 
Price  $1.00  ;  or  cloth,  $1.50. 

Lorrimer  Littlegood.  By  author 
of  "Frank  Fairleigh."  Two  vols., 
paper.     Price  $1.00  ;   or  cloth,  $1.50. 

Frank  Fairleigh.  One  volume, 
cloth,  $1.50  ;  or  chea)  edition  in  paper 
cover,  fot  75  ceuts. 


Lewis    Arundel.     One  vol.,  cloth. 

Price  $1.50;  or  cheap  edition  in  paper 

cover,  for  75  cents. 
Fortunes  and  Misfortunes  of 

Harry    Racket    Scapegrace. 

Cloth.     Price  $1.50  ;  or  cheap  edition 

in  paper  cover,  for  50  cents. 
Tom     Racquet:     and     His    Three 

Maideu  Aunts.     Illustrated.    oOcenU. 


T.  B.  PETEKSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    7 


MISS   BREMER'S    ¥E\V   WORKS. 


The    Father    and     Daughter. 

By  Fivdrika  Bremer.    Two  vol«.  paper. 
Price  $1.00  ;  or  cloth,  $1.60. 
The    Four    Sisters.      Two   vols., 

paper  cover.     Prioe  One  Dollar  ;  or  in 
one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1.60. 
Life  in  the  Old  World;    or,  Two  Years  in  Switzerland  and    Italy 
plete  in  two  large  duodecimo  volumes,  of  near  1000  pages.     Price  $3.00. 

GREEN'S  WORKS  ON  GAMBLING. 

The  Secret  Band  of  Brothers. 


The   Neighbors.     Two  vols.,  paper 

cover.     Price   One    Dollar;    or   lu   one 

volume,  cloth,  for  $1  60. 
The    Home.     Two    volumes,   paper 

cover.     Price   On*   Dollar;   or  in   one 

volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

Coin- 


Gambling    Exposed.     By  J.    H. 

Green,  the  Reformed  Gambler.  Two 
vols.,  paper  cover.  Price  $1.00  ;  or  iu 
one  volume,  cloth,  gilt,  for  $1.50. 
The  Gambler's  Life.  Two  vols., 
paper  cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  in 
one  vol.,  cloth,  gilt,  for  $1.50. 


Two  volumes,  paper  cover.    Price  One 
Dollar  ;  or  bouud  in  oue  volume,  cloth, 

for  $1. 50. 

The  Reformed  Gambler.  Two 
Vols.,  paper.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  in 
one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 


MRS.   GREY'S   NEW    BOOKS. 

Little  Beauty.  Two  vols.,  paper  .  Cousin  Harry.  Two  vols.,  paper 
cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  in  oue  cover.  Price  One  Dollar;  or  in  one 
volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50.  volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 

The   Flirt.     One  vol.  octavo,  paper  cover,  50  cents  ;  or  in  cloth,  for  75  cents. 


MRS. 


GREY'S    POPULAR    NOVELS. 

Price  Twenty-Five  Cents  each. 


Gipsy's  Daughter. 
Lena  Cameron. 
Belle  of  the  Family. 
Sybil  Lennard. 
Duke  and  Cousin. 
The  Little  Wife. 
Passion  &  Principle.    50  cents. 


The  Manoeuvring  Mother. 
The  Young  Prima  Donna. 
Alice   Seymour. 
Baronet's  Daughters. 
Old  Dower  House. 
Hyacinthe. 
Mary   Scaham.     Price  50  cents. 


G.  P.  R.  JAMES'S    NEW    BOOKS 
The    Cavalier.     An  Historical   Ro- 
mance.    With   a  steel  portrait  of  the 
author.    Two  vols.,  paper  cover.  Price 


$1.00;  or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 
The  Man  in  Black.     Price  50  cts. 
Arrah  Neil.    Price  50  cents. 


Lord  Montagu's  Page.  Two 
volumes,  paper  cover.  Price  One  Dol- 
lar ;  or  in  oue  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 


Mary  of  Burgundy.    Price  50  cts. 

Eva    St.    Clair;   and   other  Tales. 
Price  25  cents. 


MISS  ELLEN   PICKERING'S   WORKS. 

Price  Tliirty-F.ight  Cents  each. 


Who  Shall  be  Heir? 
Merchant's  Daughter. 
The  Secret  Foe. 
The  Expectant. 
The   Fright. 
<4uiet   Husband. 


Ellen  Wrareham. 
Nan  Darrel. 
Prince  and  Pedlar. 
The   Squire. 

The  Grumbler.    50  cede 
Orphan  Niece.  50  cents. 


COINS    OF     THE    WORLD. 
Petersons'  Complete    Coin   Book,  containing  Perfect  Facsimiles  of  all 
the  various  Gold,  Silver,  and  other  Metallic  Coin*,  throughout  the  World,  Deaf 
Two  Thousand  iu  all,  heing  the  most  complete  Coin  Book  in  the  World,  with 
t  .e  United  States  Mint  Value  of  each  Coin  under  it.     Price  $1.00. 


8    T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


MISS    PARDOE'S    WORKS. 


The  Jealous  Wife.  By  Miss  Par- 
doe.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo 
volume.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

The  Wife's  Trials.  By  Miss  Par- 
doe.  Complete  in  one  large  octavo 
volume.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

The  Rival  Beauties.  By  Miss 
Pardoe.  Complete  in  oue  large  octavo 
volume.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

Romance  of  the  Harem.  By 
Ms*  Pardee.  Complete  in  one  large 
octavo  volume.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

W.   H. 


Confessions  of  a  Pretty  Wo- 
man. By  Mi-s  Pardoe.  Complete 
in  one  large  octavo  volume.  Price 
Fifty  ceuts. 

Miss  Pardoe' s  Complete 
Works.  This  comprise*  the  whole 
of  the  i  .rkx.  and  an 

in  cloth,  rjilt,  in  one  large  octavo  vol- 
ume.    Price  $2.50. 

The  Adopted  Heir.  ByMissPar- 
doe.  Two  vols.,  paper.  Price  $1.00; 
or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.30. 


MAXWELL'S    WORKS. 

Brian  O'Lynn  ;  or,  Luck  is  Every- 
thing.   Price  50  cents. 
Wild  Sports  in  West.    50  cents. 
SAMUEL  C.  WARREN'S  BOOKS. 


Stories  of  Waterloo.  One  of  the 
best  books  in  the  English  language. 
One  vol.     Price  Fifty  cents. 


Ten  Thousand  a  Year.  Com- 
plete iu  two  volumes,  paper  cover. 
Price  One  Dollar;  or  a  finer  edition, 
in  one  volume,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 


Diary  of  a   Metlical    Student. 

By  author  of  "Ten  Thousand  a  Year." 
Complete  in  one  octavo  volume,  paper 
cover.     Price  50  cents. 


EMERSON     BENNETT'S     WORKS. 


The  Border  Rover.     Fine  edition 

bouud  iu  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  Railroad 

Edition  for  Oue  Dollar. 
Clara     Moreland.      Fine     edition 

bouud  in  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  Railroad 

Edition  for  One  Dollar. 
The   Forged   Will.    Fine   edition 

bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  Railroad 

Edition  for  Oue  Dollar. 
Ellen     Norhury.       Fine     edition 

bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50  ;  or  Railroad 

Edition  for  One  Dollar. 


Bride  of  the  Wilderness.  Fins 
ediriou  bound  in  cloth,  lor  $1.50;  or 
Railroad  Edition  for  $1.00. 

Kate  Clarendon.  Fine  edition 
bound  iu  cloth,  for  $1  50;  or  Rail- 
road Edition  for  One  Dollar. 

Viola.  Fine  edition,  cloth,  for  $1.50  ; 
or  Railroad  Edition  for  One  Dollar. 

Heiress  of  Bellefonte  and 
Walde-Warren.     Price  50  cents. 

Pioneer's  Daughter;  and  the 
Unknown  Countess.    50  cents. 


DOESTICKS'     BOOKS. 


Doesticks'  Letters.  Complete  in 
two  vols.,  paper  coyer.  Price  Oue  Dol- 
lar; or  in  oue  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 

Plu-ri-fous-tah.  Complete  in  two 
vols.,  pap.'i-  cover.  Price  One  Dollar; 
or  in  oue  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 


The    Elephant    Club.     Complete 

in  two  vol-.,  paper  cover.    Price $1.00  ; 

or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 
"Witches  of  New  York.  Complete 

in  two  vols.,  paper  cover.    Price  $1.00; 

or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 


Nothing  to  Say.     Illustrated.     Price  50  cents. 


DR.    HOLLICK'S    WORKS. 


Dr.    Hollick's    Anatomy    and 

Physiology  ;  with  a  large  Dis- 
secte'd  Plate  of  the  Human  Figure. 
Price  $1.25,  bound. 


Dr.  Hollick's  Family  Phy- 
sician. A  Pocket-Guide  for  Every- 
body. Complete  in  one  volume,  pa- 
per cover.     Price  25  cents. 


SMOLLETT'S    AND    FIELDING'S    GREAT    WORKS. 

Tom  Jones.    Two  volumes.    $1.00. 
Amelia.     One  volume.     Fifty  cents. 
Humphrey  Clinker.    50  cents.         Joseph  Andrews.     Fifty  cents. 


Peregrine    Pickle ;    and   His  Ad 

ventures.     Two  vols.,  octavo.     $1.00. 


T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    9 


MILITARY  NOVELS. 
By   Lever,    Dumas   acid   otlier   Authors. 

With  Illumiuated  Military  Covers,  in  Colors. 
Published  and  for  sale  at  wholesale,  l>y  the  single  copy,  or  by  th   dozen,  tundret, 
or  thousand,  at  very  low  rates. 

Their  Names  are  as  Follows  : 

Charles  O'Malley, Price    ;>0  |  Valentine  Vox P~ice    :>0 

Jack  Hinton,  the  Guardsman..     50:  Twin  Lieutenants M) 


The  Knight  of  Gwynne 50 

Harry  Lorreqner 50 

Tom  Burke  of  Ours 50 

Arthur  O'Leary 50 

Con  Cregan's   Adventures  .00 

J  Slate  O'Donoghne 50 

Horace  Templeton 50 

Davenport  Dunn 50 

Following  the  Drum 50 

The    Conscript.     2  vols.,  each  50" 


I      of 


Stories  of  Waterloo 50 

The  Soldier  s  Wife 50 

Guerilla  Chief 60 

The  Three  Guardsmen 7.3 

Twenty  Years  After 75 

Bragelonne,  the  S<m  of  Athos...  75 

Wallace,  Hero  of  Scotland  To 

Forty-live  Guardsmen 75 

The  Quaker  Soldier,  Two 

volumes,  each 50 

Sutlers  in  the  Armv,  Booksellers,  Pedlars  and  Canvassers,  can  sell  thousands 
of  the  above  works,  all  of  which  are  published  with  Illuminated  Military  covers 
in  colors,  making  them  the  most  attractive  and  saleable  books  ever  printed. 

REYNOLDS'   GREAT  WORKS. 
JHvsterles     of    the    Court     of    Rosa  Lambert  *    or.  The  Memoirs 

London.      Complete  in  one  large 

volume,  bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or 

in   two   volumes,   paper   cover,  price 

One  Dollar. 
Rose  Foster  ;  or,  "  The  Second  Series 

of  the  Mysteries  of  the  Court  of  Lon- 
don."  1  vol,u'cloth.    $2.00  :  or  in  three 

volumes,  paper  cover,  price  $1.50. 
Caroline  of  Brunswick  ;  or,  the 

"Third  Series  of  the  Mysteries  of  the 

Court  of   London."     Complete  in  one  j 

large  vol.,  hound  in  cloth,  for 

or  in  two  vols.,  paper  cover,  for  $1.00. 

Vcnetia   Trdawncy;   being  the 
"Fourth  Series,  or  final  conclusion  of 

the  Mysteries  Of  the  Court  of  London." 

Complete  in  one  volume,  iu  cloth,  for 

$1.50  :  or  in  two  volumes,  paper  cover. 

Price  One  Dollar. 
Lord  Saxondale;  or.  The  Court  of 

Queen  Victoria.   Complete  in  one  large 

vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  iu  two  vols., 

paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar. 
Count  Christoval.     The  "  Sequel 

to  Lord  Saxondale."    Complete  in  one 

vol.,  bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50:  or  in 

two  vols.,  paper  cover,  price  $1.00. 

The    Necromnnccr.     A  Romance 

of  the  Times  of  Henry  the  Eighth.   One 

vol.,  hound  in  cloth,    for  $1.50;  OT  iu 

two  vols.,  paper  cover,  price  $1.00. 


Unfortunate  Woman,    one  vol., 

bound  iu   cfoth,  for  $1.80;   or  in  two 
volumes,  paper  cover,  price  $1.00. 

Mary  Price;  or,  The' Ad  ventures  of 
a  Servant-Maid.   Complete  iu  on 
bouud   iu  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  in  two. 
vols.,  paper  cover,  price  $1.0'). 

Eustace  Q,uentin.  A  "Sequel  to 
Mary  Price."  Complete  In  one  large 
vol.,  bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  iu 
two  volumes,  paper  cover,  price 

Joseph  Wilmot;  or,  The  Memoirs 
of  a  Mau?Servant  Complete  in  ono 
vol.,  bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  in 
two  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  $1.0(  . 

The    Banker's    Daughter.      A 
Sequel  to"  Joseph  Wilmot."  Co 
in  one  vol..  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  in  two 
volumes,  paper  cover,  price  |1j0O« 

Kenneth.  A  Romance  of  tan  H;l'1i- 
bimK  Complete  in  one  large  volume, 
bound  in  cloth,  for  $1.50;  or  in  two 
volumes,  paper  cover,  price  $1.00. 

The  Rye-House  Plot;  or,  Ruth, 
the  Conspirators  Daughter.  One  vol., 
bouud  in  cloth,  for  $1..">(  ;  or  in  two 
vols., paper  cover,  price  One  Dollar. 

Mnry  Stuart,  Q,ueen  of  Scots. 
Complete  in  one  large  8v<  .  vol 

May  MlrtiJlefoiM  pr.  The  RlstofJ 
of  a  Fortune.     Trice  50  cents. 


10  T.  B.  PETERSON"  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS. 


REYNOLDS'  GREAT  WORKS. 

The  Opera  Dancer;  or,  The  Dukeof  JIavchmoni.  Being:  the 
Mysteries  of  London  Life.  Complete  ,  Conclusion  of  "The  Connie**  of  Las- 
in'ouevol.     Pnce50  cents,  celle-s."    Price  Fifty  cents. 

The   Ruined    Gamester.     With  |  Gipsy  Chief.  Beautifully  Illustrated. 
Illustrations.     Complete  in  one  large 
octavo  vol.     Price  Fifty  easts. 

Wallace:    the    Hero   of   Scot- 
land.    Illustrated  with  Tiiii : ; 
plates.     Price  75  cents. 


Complete  in  one  large  Svo.vol.    '." 

Pickwick  Abroad.  A  Companion 
to  the  "Pickwick  Papers,"  by  "Bo/."' 
One  vol.    r. 

Queen  Joanna;  or,  the  BIyi- 
teriis  of  the  Court  of  Na- 
ples.    Price  50  eetats. 

The  Loves  of  the  Harem.  SO  cts. 

The  Discarded  Queen.  One  vol. 
M  ceuts. 

Ellen  Percy  ;  or,  Memoirs  of  an  Act- 
ress.    Price  50  cts. 

Massacre  of  Glencoe.  50  cent*. 
Robert  Bruce  :  tlieHerojfillng     Agnes    Evelyn;    or,   Beauty    and 

Pleasure.    60  Bents. 

The  Parricide.    Beautifully  Illus- 


Ihe    Child    of    Waterloo;    or, 

The  Horrors  of  the  Battle  Field.    Com- 
plete iuone  vol.    Price  50  ceuts. 
The  Countess   and   the   Page. 

Complete  in  one  large  vol.  Price  50  eta. 

Ciprina;  or,  The  Secrets  of  a 
Picture  Gallery.  Complete  in 
one  vol.     Price  50  ceuts. 


of    Scotland,   with    his  Portrait. 
One  vol.     Price  50  cents. 
Isabella    Vincent;    or,  The  Two 

Orphans.  Oue  vol.,  paper  cover.  50  cts. 

Vivian  Bertram;  or,  A  Wife's 
Honor.  A  Sequel  to  "Isabella  Yiu- 
cent."    One  voL     Price  50  cents. 

The    Countess    of    Lascelles. 

The    Continuation    to    "Vivian  Ber- 
tram."   One  vol.    Price  50  ceuts. 


trated.     50  ceuts. 
Life  in   Paris. 

trated.     50  cents. 

The  Soldier's  Wife. 

at*. 
Clifford  and  the  Actress.  50  cts. 
Edgar  Montrose.   One  vol.  Si  cts. 


Handsomely  Illus- 
Illustrated. 


T.    S. 


ARTHUR'S    BEST    WORKS. 

Pi-ice  Tuxnty-Five  Oents  each. 


The  Lady  at  Home. 

Year  after  Marriage. 
Cecilia   Howard. 
Orphan  Children. 

Love  in  High  Life. 

Debtor's    Daughter. 
Agnes;  or,  The  Possessed. 
Love  in  a  Cottage. 
Mary  Moreton. 
Lizzie  Glenn 
vol.,  cloth,  gilt 


The    Divorced    Wife. 
The  Two  Brides. 
Lucy  Sandford. 
The  Banker's  Wife. 

The    Two  Merchants. 
Insubordination. 
Trial  and  Triumph. 
The  Iron  Rule. 

Pride    and  Prudence, 
or,  The  Trials  of  a  Seamstress.  By  T.  S.  Arthur.   One 
Price  81.50,  or  in  two  vols.,  paper  cover,  for  $1.00. 


CHARLES    J.  PETERSON'S    WORKS. 


Kate  Aylesford.  A  Love  Story. 
Two  vols.,  paper.  Price  $1  00  ;  or  in 
one  vol.,  cloth,  for*!..:.1. 


The  Valley  Farm  ;  or.  The  Auto- 
biography of  an  Orphan.  A  Companion 
to  Jane  Eyre.    Price  25  cents. 

Grace  Dudley;  or,  Arnold  at  Sara- 
toga. Complete  in  one  octavo  volume, 
Price  25  cents. 

Mabel :  or.  Darkness  and  Dawn.  Two 
paper  cover.  Price  $1.00;  or  in 
cloth,  $1.50.    (In  Press.) 

J.  F.  SMITH'S  WORKS. 
The  Usurer's  Victim  ;   or  Tho-     Adelaide     Waldgrave  ;    or    the 
mas    Balscorabe.     One   volume,         Trial*  of  a  Governess.     One  volume, 
octave.    Price  oi  ;eut»  ,      octavo.     Price  50  cent*. 


The   Old    Stone  Mansion.      By 

('buries  J.  Peterson.  Two  vols.,  paper. 
Price  $1.00  ;  or  in  cloth,  for  $1.50. 
Cruising    in    the    Last    War, 
By  Charles  J.  P<ur>r-nn.     Complete  in 
oue  volume.     Price  50  cents. 


T.B.PETERSON  &  BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS.  11 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 
The  Waverley  Novels.  By  Sir  Walter  Scott.  With  a  magnificent  Portialt 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  engraved  from  the  last  Portrait  for  which  \ip  ever  sat,  at 
Atibottsford,  with  his  Autograph  under  it.  Tins  edition  is  complete  in  Five  largo 
octavo  volumes,  with  handsomely  engraved  steel  Title  Paged  to  each  volume, 
the  whole  beiug  neatly  and  handsomely  bound  in  cloth.  This  is  the  cheapest  and 
moat  complete  and  perfect  edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels  published  in  the  world, 
as  it  contains  all  the  Author's  last  additions  and  corrections.  Price  Ten  Dollars 
for  a  complete  and  entire  set  bound  iu  cloth. 

CHEAP  EDITION  IN  PAPER  COVER. 
This  edition  is  published  in  Twenty-Six  volumes,  paper  cover,  price  thirty-eight 
rents  each,  or  the  whole  twenty-six  volumes,  will  be  sold  or  sent  to  any  one,  Tree 
of  postage,  for  Eight  Dollars. 

The  following  are  their  names. 
The  Heart  of  Mid  JL0tl1iu.11,       ,  Count  Robert  of  Paris, 


Guy  Mannering", 
Tlie  Antiquary, 
Old  Mortality, 
St.  Ronan's  Well, 
Tlie  Bride  of  Liammermoor, 
Highland  Widow, 
Ivanhoe, 
Rob  Roy, 
Waverley, 
Tales  of  a  Grandfather, 
Ken  II worth, 
Fair   Maid  Perth, 
Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak, 


The  Pirate, 
The  Abbot, 
Red  Gauntlet, 

The  Talisman, 
Quentin  Durward, 
Tlie  Monastery, 
Woodstock, 
Anne  of  Geierstein, 
The  Betrothed, 
Castle    Dangerous,   and    Sur- 
geon's Daughter, 

Black   Dwarf  and  Legend  of 
Montrose. 

Moredun.     Price  50  cents. 


IiOckhart's  Life  of  Scott.     Complete  in  one  volume,  cloth.     Price  $1.50. 
WALTER  SCOTT'S  PROSE    AND  POETICAL    WORKS. 

We  also  publish  Sir  Walter  Scott's  complete  Prose  and  Poetical  Works,  in  ton 
large  octavo  volumes,  hound  in  cloth.  This  edition  contains  every  thing  ever  writ- 
ten by  Sir  Walter  .Scott.     Price  Twenty  Dollars  for  a  complete  set. 

EUGENE    SUE'S   GREAT    NOVELS. 

Martin  tlie  Foundling.  Beau- 
tifully Illustrated.  Two  volumes,  pa- 
per cover  Price  One  Dollar  ;  or  iu  one 
vol.,  cloth,  for  $1  50. 

First    Love.     Price  25  cents. 

Woman's  Love.  Illustrated.  25  cts. 

The  Man-of-Wnr's-Man.  25ctfc 

The  Female  Bluebeard.    39  cts. 

Raonl  De  Survillc.     Trice  25  cts. 


Illustrated  Wandering  .Tew. 

With  Eighty-seven  large  Illustrations, 

Complete  in  two  vols.,  paper  cover. 
Price  One  Dollar;  or  in  one  volume, 
cloth,  for  $1.50. 


Mysteries  of  Paris  ;  and  Gerol- 

wtein,  the  Sequel    to  it.      Complete 

in  two  volumes,  paper  cover.  Price 
Que  Dollar;  or  in  one  volume,  cloth, 
for  $1.50. 

SIR    E.    L.    BULWER'S     NOVELS. 

Falkland.     A  Novel.     One  volume,  i  The   Oxonians.     A  Sequel  to  "The 
octavo.     Price  35  cents.  Rone/'    Price  85  cents. 

The    Roue  ;  or.  The  Hazards  of  Wo-     Cnldoron,    the     Courtier.      By 
men.     Price  2 3  cents.  Dy  Six  E.  L.  Bulwer.     Price  i'l  tents. 


12   T.B.PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS 


HUMOROUS     AMERICAN    WORKS. 

With  Original  Illustrations  by  Darky  and  Others. 

Done  up  in  Illuminated  Covers. 

Being  the  most  Humorous  aDd  Laughable  Books  ever  printed  in  the  English 
Language. 


Major  Jones'  Courtship.    With 

Thhteen  Illustrations,  from  designs  by 
Darley.     Price  50  cents. 

Drama  in  Pokerville.  By  J.  M. 
Field.  With  Illustrations  by  Darley. 
Price  Fifty  cents. 

Louisiana  Swamp  Doctor.   By 
author  of  '•  Capping  "U  " 
Illustrated  by  Darley.    Price  ' 

Charcoal  Sketches.  By  Joseph 
C.  NeaL    With  Illustrations.    50  cents. 

Yankee  Amongst  the  Mer- 
maids. By  W.  E.  Barton.  With  II- 
lustrations  by  Darley.     50  cents. 

Misfortunes  of  Peter  Paber. 
By  Joseph  C.  Real.  With  Illustrations 
by  Darley.     Price  50  cents. 

Major  Jones'  Sketches  of 
Travel.  With  Illustrations,  from 
designs  by  Darley.     Price  50  cents. 

Quarter  Race  in  Kentucky. 
By  W.  T.  Porter,  &q.  With  Illustra- 
tions by  Darley.    50  cents. 

Sol.  Smith's  Theatrical  Ap- 
prenticeship. Illustrated  by  Dar- 
ley.    Price  Fifty  Cents. 

Yankee  Yarns  and  Yankee 
Letters.  By  Sam  Slick,  alias  Judge 
Haiiburcon.     Price  50  cts. 

Life  and  Adventures  of  Col. 
Vand«-rbomb.  By  the  author  of 
'•  Wild  Western  scenes."     50 

Big  Rear  of  Arkansas.     Edited 

by  Win.  T.  Porter.  With  Illustrations 
by  Darley.     Price  Fifty  cents 

Major  Jones'  Chronicles  of 
Piueville.  With  Illustrations  by 
Darley.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

Life  and  Adventures  of  Per- 
cival  M  a  berry.  By  J.  H.  Ingra- 
hara.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

Frank  Forester's  Q,uorndon 
Hounds.  By  H.  W.  Herbert.  With 
Illustrations.     Price  50  cents. 

Pickings  from  the  "  Pica- 
yune." With  Illustrations  by  Dar- 
ley.    Price  Fifty  cents. 

Frank     Forester's     Shooting 

Box.  With  Illustrations  by  Darley. 
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Peter  Ploddy.  By  author  of  "Char- 
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Darley.     Price  Fifty  ceuts. 

Western  Scenes ;  or,  Life  on 
the  Prairie.  Illustrated  by  Dar- 
ley.     Price  50  cents. 

Streaks  of  Squatter  Life.     By 

author  of  "Major  Jones'  Courtship." 
Illustrated  by  Darley.    50  ceuts. 

Simon  Suggs.  —  Adventures 
of  Captain  Simon  Suggs. 
Illustrated  by  Darley.    50  cents. 

Stray  Subjects  Arrested  and 
Bound  Over.  With  Illustrations 
by  Darley.     Fifty  cents. 

Frank  Forester's  Deer  Stalk- 
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Adventures  of  Captain  Far- 
rago. By  Hon  H.  H.  Brackenridge. 
Illustrated.     Price  50  cents. 

Widow  Rugby's  Husband. 
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Major  O'Regan's  Adventures. 
By  Hon.  H.  H.  Brackenridge.  With 
Illustrations  by  Darley.     Fifty  cents. 

Theatrical  Journey  -  Work 
and  Anecdotal  Recollec- 
tions    of    Sol.    Smith,    Baa.. 

Price  50  cents. 

Polly  Peablossom's  "Wed- 
ding. By  the  anchor  of  "Major 
Jones'  Courtship."     Fifty  cents. 

Frank  Forester's  Warwick 
Woodlands.  With  beautiful  Il- 
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Hew  Orleans  Sketch  Book. 
By  "Stahl."  With  Illustrations  by 
Darley.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

The  Love  Scrapes  of  Fudge 
Fumble.  By  author  of  "  Arkausaw 
Doctor."     Price  Fifty  cents. 

American  Joe  Miller.     With  100 

Illustrations.  Price  Twenty-five  cents. 
Judge    Haliburton's    Yankee 

Stories.      Two  rolK     paper   cover. 

Pr  re  41.00  ;  or  cloth,  $1.50. 
Humors  of  Falconbridge.  Two 

vols.,  pap^r  cover.     Price  One  Dollar; 

or  in  one  vol.,  cloth,  $1.50. 


T.B.PETERSON  &  BROTHERS'  PUBLICATIONS.    13 


GUST  AVE    AIMAKD'S    WORKS. 
The  Prairie  Flower.    One  vol., 

octavo,  paper  cover,  price  50  cents,  or 
bound  iu  cloth  for  75  cents. 
ne  Indian  Scout.     One  volume, 
octavo,  paper  cover,  price  fifty  cents, 
or  bound  in  cloth  for  75  eta. 


The  Trail  Hunter.  One  volume 
octavo,  paper  cover,  price  fifty  cents, 
or  bound  iu  cloth  for  75  cts. 


The    Pirates    of  the    Prairies. 

«>ne  vol  ,  paper  cover,  price  60  ceuts, 
or  boaud  in  cloth,  for  75  cents. 


The  Trapper's  Daughter.    One 
volume,  paper  cover.     1'iice  50  cents. 

The    Tiger   Slayer.     One  volume, 
octavo,  paper  cover.     Price  50  cents 

The  Gold   Set-hern.     One  volume, 
octavo,  papei  cover.     Price  50  cents. 
All  of  Aimard's  other  books  are  in  press  by  us. 


GEORGE    SAND'S    WORKS. 


Consuelo.  By  George  Sand.  Trans- 
lated from  the  French,  by  Fayette  Rob- 
inson. Complete  and  unabridged.  One 
volume.     Price  Fifty  cents. 

Countess   of  Rudolstadt.     The 

Sequel  to  "  Consuelo."  Translated  from 
the  original  French.  Complete  and  un- 
abridged edition.     Price  50  cents. 


First  and  True  Love.  By  author 
of  "  Consuelo,"  "  Indiana,"  etc.  Illus- 
trated.    Priee  50  cents. 

The  Corsair.     Price  50  cents. 

Indiana.  By  author  of  "Consuelo," 
etc.  A  very  bewitching  and  Interest- 
ing work.  Two  vols.,  paper  covei 
$1.00  ;  or  iu  one  vol.,  cloth,  for  $1.50. 


LIEBIG'S    WORKS    ON    CHEMISTRY. 

Agricultural  Chemistry.     By  i  Familiar  Letters    on    Chem- 

fiaron  Justus  Liebig.     Complete  and  I      lstry. 

unabridged.     Price  50  cents.  |  Chemistry  and   Physics  in  re- 

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T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BHOTH7.PS'  PUBLICATIONS    15 


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first  express  or  mail,  or  in  any  other  way  you  may  direct,  just  as  well 
assorted,  and  the  same  as  if  you  were  on  the  spot,  with  circulars,  show 
bills,  &c.,  gratis.     All  we  ask  is  to  give  us  a  trial. 

Address  all  orders  for  any  books  you  may  want  at  all,  no  matter  by 
whom  published,  or  liow  small  or  how  large  your  order  may  be,  to  the 
Cheapest  Publishing  and  Bookselling  House  in  the  world,  which  ts  at 

T.  B.  PETERSON  &  BROTHERS, 

No.  306  Chestnut  Street,  Philadelphia. 

Ann  They  will  bo  packed  and  seni  to  you  within  an  hour  after  receipt 
yf  the  order,  per  express  or  railroad,  or  in  any  other  way  you  may  direct. 


C3T  Agents.  Sutlers,  an-'l  Pedlars  wanted  everywhere,  to  engage  in  the 
sale  or'our  popular  selling  Books,  all  of  which  will  be  sold  at  very  low  rates. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wilmer 
807 





